THE  GREEN  GODDESS 


THE 

GREEN  GODDESS 


BY 


LOUISE  JORDAN  MILN 

Author  of   "Mr,   Wu,"   "The  Feast  of  Lanterns,'1 
"The  Purple  Mask,"  etc. 


Based  on  the  Play,  "The  Green  Goddess"  by. 
WILLIAM  ARCHER 


' And  the  Gods  of  the  East  made  mouths  at  me** 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  Stales  of  America 


PS 
352-b 

o 

d" 


r'In  men  whom  men  proclaim   divine, 
I  find  so  much  of  sin  and  blot, 
In  men  whom  men  condemn  as  ill, 
I   find   so  much   of   goodness   still; 
I  hesitate  to  draw  the  line 
Between  the  two,  where  God  has  not" 


2137269  ' 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Vicar  was  suffering — almost  as  much  as  he 
had  suffered  the  night  that  Helen,  his  wife,  had 
died — and  because  he  was  suffering  he  dressed  his  fine 
cameo-like  face  in  its  sunniest  smile.  That  was  his 
way — part  of  his  creed-of -daily-life,  an  intrinsic  part 
of  his  self. 

A  godly  man,  in  the  sweetest  and  strongest  senses 
of  that  overused  word,  Philip  Reynolds  had  a  whole 
some  flair  for  the  things  of  earth  that  both  mellow  hu 
man  life  and  give  it  a  tang.  He  liked  his  dinner,  and 
he  liked  it  good.  He  loved  his  roses,  and  he  was  vastly 
proud  of  his  turnips.  His  modest  cellar  was  admira 
bly  stocked.  He  enjoyed  the  logs  that  burned  and 
glowed  on  his  wide  hearths.  He  was  fond  of  his  books 
— both  inside  and  out.  If  he  found  a  newly  purchased 
book  (he  subscribed  to  no  library)  little  worth  reading, 
he  discarded  it.  He  gave  it  away,  if  he  held  it  harm 
less;  if  he  thought  it  a  hurtful  volume,  he  burned  it. 
But  his  taste  was  broad,  and  his  charity — to  books  as 
well  as  to  people — was  wide.  He  played  a  good  hand 
of  bridge — though  Lucilla,  his  girl,  played  even  a  bet 
ter.  But  he  could  beat  the  county  at  whist,  and  most 
of  it  at  chess.  He  still  could  give  a  crack  tennis  player 
a  game,  and  he  could  ride  neck  and  neck  with  the  next 
— and  so  could  Lucilla. 

1 


But  all  these  things  were  so  much  to  him.  only  be 
cause  they  that  he  loved  were  so  greatly  more.  There 
were  four  big  human  loves  in  his  being  and  keeping. 
Three  whom  he  loved  were  out  in  the  churchyard — 
only  one,  Lucilla,  still  lived.  But  he  loved  the  three  as 
actively  now  as  he  had  when  they  had  been  here  in  the 
vicarage  with  him.  And  the  creature  things  he  cared 
for  and  cultivated — wine,  food,  games,  flowers,  books 
— he  cared  for  and  appreciated  most  because  he  asso 
ciated  them  with  the  beings  of  his  strong  living  love : 
his  mother,  his  wife,  Jack,  his  boy,  and  Lucilla,  his 
daughter. 

He  had  one  great  friendship,  and  two  or  three  more 
moderate,  but  staunch  and  warm.  His  great  friend 
ship  was  with  God.  It  amounted  to  reverent  intimacy. 
He  felt  more  quickly  alive  to  God's  nearness  than  to 
that  of  most  human  creatures.  His  friendship  with 
God  filled  his  life.  But  his  human  loves  filled  his  heart. 
Philip  Reynolds  loved  his  God,  and  obeyed  Him 
loyally  and  gladly.  But  he  knew  that  his  love  for  the 
three  in  the  churchyard,  and  the  girl  whom  he  was 
giving  up  to  another  to-morrow  was  a  more  passionate 
thing  than  the  devoted  affection  he  gave  to  his  Maker 
and  Master.  And  he  dared  to  think  this  no  offense  to 
the  Supreme.  God  who  had  granted  them  to  him  un 
derstood  and  did  not  blame,  he  thought. 

He  had  no  doubt  of  God's  personal  existence,  and 
never  had  had.  As  a  little  child  he  had  believed  im 
plicitly  because  his  mother  did,  and  as  he  grew  older, 
and  came  to  live — as  we  all,  even  the  most  heart-bound 
and  interknit  with  close  human  intimacies  must — a  life 
somewhat  of  his  own,  all  that  he  saw,  experienced,  and 
came  to  think  added  a  strong  and  vivid  conviction,  a 
reasoned  and  constantly  augmented  conviction,  to  what 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  3 

had  been  just  acceptance  and  credulity.  Everything 
convinced  him  that  there  was  a  God,  a  gracious,  hu 
mane  and  intensely  personal  God,  in  whose  image  all 
men  were  made.  The  marvelous,  masterly  plan  of  the 
universe,  the  exquisite  creation  of  flowers,  the  flight 
and  the  song  of  birds,  the  fitness  and  interfiling  of  all 
natural  and  unspoiled  things,  the  unerring  instincts  of 
animal  life  and  of  the  vegetable  world — instincts  of 
reproduction  and  of  self -de  fending;  these  and  a  myriad 
other  daily  "miracles"  convinced  him  of  a  Master 
Workman  omnipotent  and  very  near;  gave  him  a  con 
viction  which  never  could  be  shaken  or  threatened — an 
invincible,  glowing,  grateful  faith.  And  it  was  his 
strength.  But  his  human  loves  were  his  inspiration; 
they  flowed  through  his  being  like  rare  wine  in  his 
veins,  they  colored  his  life,  sparkled  his  thought,  and 
perfumed  his  world.  He  knew  God,  and  worshiped 
Him,  and  gave  Him  a  beautiful  friendship.  But  his 
love,  as  he  understood  "love" — life's  earthly  stimulant 
and  elixir — was  for  the  three  in  the  churchyard  and  for 
the  girl  their  going  had  left  with  him  behind  them. 

A  son  never  had  loved  a  mother  more  than  Philip 
Reynolds  had  loved  his;  but  she  held  the  fourth  place 
in  his  heart.  Helen,  his  wife,  had  held  the  first,  and 
after  her  he  had  loved  Jack,  their  boy.  Jack  had  died 
almost  immediately  after  Helen's  death,  and  Reynolds, 
because  he  so  exquisitely  and  deeply  loved  Helen,  re 
joiced  more  than  he  grieved.  He  was  glad  to  have 
Jack  forever  safe  in  their  Father-God's  keeping,  ra 
diantly  glad  that  Helen  should  have  the  boy's  com 
panionship  and  keeping  in  that  near  Heaven  where  she 
waited  his  coming.  The  parishioners  marveled  at  their 
Vicar's  sunny  serenity  close  on  the  loss  of  his  only  son; 
one  or  two  questioned  it,  even,  not  too  approvingly. 


4  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Other  priests  held  it  his  very  great  "grace."  But  they 
were  wrong,  for  it  was  no  saintship,  but  simply  the  su 
preme  sincerity  of  his  love  of  his  wife,  making  him  glad 
to  give  to  her  what  he  most  of  all  things  would  have 
wished  to  keep  for  himself:  the  daily  and  constant 
companionship  of  Jack.  And  yet — were  they  wrong 
after  all?  Surely  to  love  as  this  man  loved  is  "grace," 
a  grace  unto  the  grace  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

His  wife,  his  son,  and  his  mother  were  as  much  an 
active  part  of  his  daily  life  to-day  as  they  ever  had 
been;  and  Jack,  the  last  to  be  laid  there,  had  lain  in 
the  old  Surrey  churchyard  a  full  score  of  years.  Each 
day  he  went  to  their  graves  which  no  hand  but  his  ever 
tended — it  was  not  far  to  go;  only  across  the  narrow 
country  road — saw  that  their  flowers  were  fresh,  and 
the  bleakest  winter's  day  they  had  their  flowers,  and 
passed  on  in  to  pray  in  the  church  where  his  mother 
and  he  and  Jack  had  been  christened,  and  where  his 
mother  and  Helen  and  he  had  been  married — then  back 
to  his  home  and  his  people,  his  tireless,  gentle  minister 
ing  to  good  and  to  sinful,  his  sipping  of  good  wine, 
his  reading  of  books,  his  games  and  his  writing,  and  his 
care  of  Lucilla. 

He  could  not  remember  his  father;  for  the  father 
had  "gone  down  with  his  ship"  when  Philip  had  been 
but  a  baby;  and  Lucilla  could  remember  neither  her 
mother  nor  brother;  for  they  had  died  when  she  was 
not  three. 

Helen  Reynolds  was  still  remembered  in  the  parish 
for  her  pretty  face,  and  her  soft  kind  ways — remem 
bered  as  "a  nice  little  thing"  with  the  best  heart  in  the 
world,  but  no  special  strength  of  mind  or  of  will. 

But  that  had  not  been  so.     Few  women  have  ever 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  5 

had  a  stronger  will,  and  even  fewer  a  more  capable 
mind.  Her  intense  gentleness  had  been  a  dignity,  not 
weakness.  An  entirely  happy  life  had  left  her  will  un 
ruffled,  and  her  really  fine  mind  had  been  homekeep- 
ing,  a  trifle  proud,  and  more  than  a  trifle  scornful  of 
the  mental  equipments — outside  of  the  vicarage  itself — 
about  her.  A  great  many  rich  and  leisured  people — 
quite  a  few  of  them  with  minor  titles — had  smart  coun 
try  establishments  in  the  purlieus  of  her  husband's 
parish,  but  they  were  not  intellectuals,  they  read  more 
novels  than  quarterlies,  attended  more  race-meetings 
than  academic  lectures,  were  more  steeped  in  fashions 
than  in  philosophies,  and  the  village  folk  were  true  to 
type,  self-seeking,  self-absorbed,  gossipy,  curious,  or 
dinary.  They  read  the  Surrey  Comet — some  of  them 
sometimes — abused  the  weather,  asked  alms  directly  or 
indirectly,  but  industriously,  of  Vicar  and  Squire,  and 
took  a  keen  rather  than  gracious  interest  in  each  other's 
births  and  marriages,  ups  and  downs,  debts  and  earn 
ings,  shortcomings  and  Sunday  dinners.  They  had 
not  interested  Helen  Reynolds;  which  was  not  alto 
gether  to  their  disadvantage.  For  the  Vicar's  wife  had 
a  shrewder  gift  of  analysis  than  the  Vicar  had.  He 
saw  chiefly  the  good  in  every  one.  She  saw  the  bad, 
as  quickly  and  surely  as  she  did  the  good;  and  her 
sense  of  justice  leaned  to  severity  rather  than  to  mercy. 
She  had  been  as  devoted  to  Philip  as  he  to  her.  But 
he  had  deserved  it.  A  faulty  husband  would  have  had 
short  shrift  with  Helen  Reynolds,  whose  "sweetly 
pretty"  face  and  soft,  rippling,  girlish  hair  enhoused  a 
relentless  judgment,  an  exigeant  taste  and  unwavering 
determination.  But  she  had  a  sweet,  sunny  spirit  and  a 
quick,  bubbling  sense  of  humor.  She  rarely  smiled, 


6  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

but  she  laughed  fairly  often.  And  her  wit  was  both 
pretty  and  trenchant. 

The  Vicar  never  made  a  joke  in  his  life,  and  never 
failed  to  see  one — and,  if  it  really  was  good,  never 
failed  to  enjoy  it  greatly. 

There  was  more  lion,  more  indomitability,  in  wife 
than  in  husband,  but  they  were  excellently  matched  in 
tastes,  culture  and  breeding;  and  their  comradeship  had 
been  "perfect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing."  And  death 
did  not  separate  them. 

The  daughter  of  such  parents  and  of  such  a  marriage 
came  into  life  with  fine  equipment.  She  had  her 
mother's  mind,  the  good  taste  of  the  two,  a  person  less 
"pretty,"  more  distinguished  than  her  mother's.  She 
had  her  mother's  cool,  clear  head,  her  father's  big,  loyal 
heart,  her  mother's  sharp  eyes,  her  father's  fine,  firm 
hand  on  bridle  or  reins.  She  had  his  genial  liking  of 
people,  his  love  of  fun,  her  mother's  resentment  of  all 
that  offended  her  taste,  the  tireless  limbs  of  them  both, 
the  flair  of  adventure  and  travel  that  they  had  shared 
almost  equally.  She  was  fearless  and  exquisitely  bred. 

Philip  Reynolds  had  traveled  much  in  his  younger 
days,  and  he  still  roamed  the  world — in  his  study  and 
in  the  easy  chair  by  the  drawing-room  fire.  But  since 
his  wife's  death  he  had  not  spent  a  night  out  of  the 
sleeping-room  that  had  also  been  hers.  He  still  loved 
to  travel — with  the  book  on  his  knee;  but  not  for  all 
the  wonder-spots  of  earth  would  he  have  foregone  even 
once  his  daily  tryst  at  the  graves  in  the  churchyard. 

Lucilla  Reynolds  always  had  longed  to  travel,  but 
had  done  it  but  little.  For  her  own  sake  her  father 
had  been  unwilling  to  spare  her — for  they  had  few 
relatives,  and  none  to  whom  he  cared  to  entrust  his 
girl  often.  But  he  was  relinquishing  her  now.  And 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  7 

she  was  going  to  travel  far.  For  Captain  Crespin's 
regiment  was  stationed  in  India.  And  they  were  to 
be  married  to-morrow,  Antony  Crespin  and  Lucilla 
Reynolds. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  Vicar  was  suffering  acutely.  He  knew  he'd 
miss  his  daughter.  And  he  thought  he  should  not 
see  her  again  after  to-morrow's  parting.  So  he  went 
into  the  breakfast-room,  where  he  knew  she'd  be  wait 
ing  for  him  as  she  always  was,  wearing  his  brightest 
face.  No  shadow  of  his  making  should  dim  the  child's 
last  day  at  home  with  her  father.  There  would  be 
time  enough — all  the  rest  of  his  life — to  miss  her  in, 
and  he  did  not  intend  to  do  it  to-day,  in  the  least,  or 
to  anticipate  it.  This  should  be  a  day  of  great  and 
unbroken  joy.  And  he  didn't  intend  to  mope  after 
she'd  gone.  Not  he !  He  had  the  churchyard,  his  peo 
ple  to  shepherd,  the  flowers  in  his  garden,  and  good- 
fellow  books  on  his  shelves,  and  his  one  great  Friend 
ship.  And  he  was  brave. 

It  was  hard  to  let  the  child  go — that  of  course — but 
the  way  of  her  going  contented  him  well.  From  the 
hour  of  her  birth  he  had  prayed  that  Lucilla  might 
marry.  The  new  dispensation  that  made  life  so  much 
more  interesting  and  varied  for  unmarried  women  had 
his  cordial  endorsement,  because  it  did,  as  he  judged, 
make  the  world  a  pleasanter  place  for  an  unmarried 
woman ;  but  he  was  profoundly  and  acutely  sure  that 
marriage  was  for  every  woman  "the  better  part,"  and 
in  the  increasing  preponderance  of  women  to-day, 
making  marriage  a  mathematical  impossibility  for  so 
awkwardly  many,  his  prayer  that  his  girl  should  marry 
took  on  an  unplacid  quality  of  anxiety,  almost  a  cer- 

8 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  9 

tain  feverishness  that  he  owned  to  himself  was  less  than 
becoming  to  so  spiritual  an  act  as  prayer. 

He  was  glad  when  love  found  Lucilla  out,  and  mar 
riage  beckoned  and  claimed  her.  He  liked  and  ap 
proved  Antony  Crespin.  And  he  rejoiced  that  her 
marriage  was  to  take  so  far  afield  the  daughter  whose 
actual  presence  he  could  so  ill  spare,  and  would,  he 
knew,  so  sorely  miss.  He  knew  that  she — for  all  her 
sweet  and  unaffected  happiness  in  it — had  begun  to  find 
the  quiet,  beaten  Surrey  path  a  trifle  tame,  a  little  same 
and  narrow.  Because  she  was  going  so  far,  he  thought 
that  he  should  not  see  her  again ;  but  he  was  glad  that 
she  was.  India  would  fascinate  her,  he  thought;  and 
the  army  life  would  amuse  her.  And  of  her  happiness 
and  welfare  he  had  no  doubt;  for  Crespin  was  good  all 
through,  a  sterling,  capable  fellow,  and  Lucilla  herself 
was  as  sane  and  sensible  as  she  was  true  and  sweet. 
Antony  had  beyond  his  Captain's  beggarly  pay,  though 
a  bit  less  beggarly  in  an  Indian  regiment,  of  course,  a 
decent  private  income ;  not  too  much,  but  just  enough. 
The  prayer  of  Agar  would  be  answered  for  the  husband 
and  wife,  and  Philip  Reynolds  was  sure  that  "Grant 
me  neither  poverty  nor  riches"  was  one  of  the  most 
sensible  petitions  ever  lifted  up  to  God  by  man.  Yes 
— it  was  a  good  match  in  every  sense.  And,  if  to-mor 
row  would  be  one  of  his  sharp  sorrow-days,  it  too 
would  be  one  of  his  gladdest. 

Lucilla  stood  quietly  radiant  waiting  for  him  at  the 
breakfast  table. 

''Well,  Daddy?"  she  said. 

"Well,  dear?" 

"Sleep  well?" 

"Capitally!     Capitally!" 

It  was  their  usual  morning  greeting.    Then  he  kissed 


10  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

her,  and  she  kissed  him,  as  kindly  and  gently  as  he 
had  in  that  same  room,  on  that  same  spot  every  morn 
ing  for  years — but  no  more  warmly,  no  more  linger- 
ingly  than  they  always  had ;  with  no  added  significance. 
Each  had  resolved  that  to-day  should  be  just  like  other 
days  of  theirs,  to  be  cherished  in  memory  all  the  more 
tenderly  because  it  had  been  just  one  of  their  days  of 
ordinary  intimacy.  And,  though  nothing  had  been  said 
between  them,  each  knew  that  they  shared  the  wish 
and  the  intention. 

Her  boxes  were  packed  and  locked — all  packed,  all 
locked,  but  the  one  into  which  her  wedding  white  would 
be  laid  when  she  came  back  from  church  to-morrow. 
All  that  he  had  to  say  to  her,  advice,  careful  words 
about  marriage  and  about  India,  some  of  it  said  for 
himself,  some  said  in  her  mother's  stead,  assurances 
that  he  would  do  capitally,  capitally  without  her,  prom 
ises  to  neglect  neither  her  collie  nor  her  carnations — 
all  this  had  been  said.  None  of  it  need  be  said  again. 
Nothing  should  be  allowed  to  mark  this  day  from  the 
many  other  good  days  they  had  shared  together — ex 
cept  that  each  had  told  the  parlor-maid  privately  that 
they  would  be  at  home  to  no  one  to-day — if  any  one 
had  the  ill  tact  to  call;  and  as  for  the  villagers,  well,  if 
any  parishioners  were  in  sudden  trouble  or  sickness 
they  must  shift  with  the  curate  for  once. 

Not  even  Antony  Crespin  was  to  have  admittance 
to-day,  Lucilla  had  told  him,  and  Crespin  had  laughed, 
and  understood,  with  a  tender  look  in  his  pleasant  eyes, 
and  had  promised  obedience  with  a  cheerful  "Right-o !" 

The  girl  gave  her  father  his  coffee,  and  he  gave  her 
her  kidneys. 

She  teased  him  a  little  when  his  cup  came  back  the 
second  time,  and  he  retorted  with  a  reminder  of  what 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  11 

it  probably  had  cost  when  she  helped  herself  to  a  sec 
ond  peach. 

For  more  than  an  hour  they  strolled  in  the  garden, 
as  they  always  did  when  it  was  fine,  and  often,  though 
more  briskly  and  briefly,  when  it  rained.  They  studied 
the  roses  and  appraised  the  peas,  counted  the  chickens 
just  hatched — one  perking  about  with  a  white  bubble 
of  shell  still  on  its  soft  yellow  back — praised  the  red 
wealth  of  the  strawberry  beds,  shook  their  heads  at  a 
pear  tree's  blight;  but  nothing  was  said  of  that  they 
would  not  do  it  together  again.  All  over  the  garden 
they  wandered,  her  hand  on  his  sleeve,  or  his  on  hers ; 
but  they  did  this  almost  every  day. 

When  they  went  in  he  read  his  paper  and  she  read 
hers. 

After  lunch  they  went  back  into  the  garden,  he  with 
a  book,  she  with  some  sewing,  and  under  the  big  cedar 
just  outside  the  drawing-room's  open  French  window 
he  sat  in  the  big  garden  chair  and  read  aloud,  while  she 
sat  on  the  big  bench  and  worked. 

She  played  to  him  after  tea.  Then  he  read  her  the 
sermon  he'd  finished  the  night  before  while  she  and 
Antony  had  roamed  the  garden,  and  Lucilla  made  a 
suggestion  or  two — as  she  often  did,  more  because  she 
knew  he  liked  her  to  than  for  any  more  critical  reason — 
and  one  suggestion  he  liked  and  incorporated,  and  one 
he  disdained  and  rejected. 

They  had  a  fire  in  the  hall  that  night,  as  they  always 
did  when  its  heat  possibly  could  be  borne.  He  won  the 
game  of  cribbage ;  he  usually  did.  Then  she  sat  on  the 
wide  hearth-curb,  leaning  back  against  the  ingle-nook's 
paneling,  her  palms  behind  her  head,  and  he  lounged  in 
his  great  cushioned  chair,  and  their  lazy  talk  moved 
back  and  forth  from  grave  to  gay. 


12  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  grandfather's  clock  struck  eleven.  The  Vicar 
got  up  and  wound  it,  she  standing  beside  him.  Then 
without  a  word  he  kissed  her  goodnight,  and  patted  her 
shoulder,  and  she  kissed  him,  and  said,  "Till  break 
fast,  Daddy.  Remember  to  put  this  light  out,"  and 
went  up  the  broad,  old  stairs,  her  pale  dinner-gown 
trailing  softly  behind  her.  And  her  father  stood  and 
watched  her — not  moving  until  he  had  heard  her  bed 
room  door  close. 

Lucilla  Reynolds  closed  her  door — alone  with  the 
thoughts  that  such  girls  think  on  such  nights. 

And  the  man  sat  alone  by  the  fire  till  it  died. 


CHAPTER  III 

OUT  on  the  ocean  Lucilla  Crespin  missed  her 
father  more  than  he,  alone  now  in  the  vicarage, 
missed  her.  He  had  been  bereaved  too  often  to  feel 
overwhelming  or  insupportable  shock  from  bereave 
ment,  and  he  was  at  home  with  his  house,  his  books, 
his  garden,  his  people,  his  usual  work  and  his  usual 
pastimes,  with  his  church  and  his  churchyard — and, 
above  all,  at  home  with  himself. 

Lucilla  was  scarcely  at  home  yet  with  her  new  self — 
that  was  the  chief  difference — and  she  was  out  on  the 
new,  unbeaten  paths  now,  crossing  the  wide  world, 
alone  on  the  ocean,  alone  for  the  rest  of  the  long  years 
to  come  with  a  stranger — a  devoted  and  perfectly 
charming  stranger,  who  loved  her  amazingly,  and 
whom  she  loved  excitingly — but  a  stranger.  She  had 
felt  so  closely  acquainted  with  her  lover,  even  before 
he  had  spoken  his  love,  but  she  found  that  she  felt 
oddly  and  shyly  unacquainted  with  her  husband.  It 
was  fascinating,  the  queer  strangeness  she  felt,  and  it 
made  the  smallest,  ordinary,  everyday  things  wonder 
ful,  almost  hairbreadth-escape  adventure — changing 
her  shoes,  fastening  a  blouse,  winding  her  watch, 
washing  her  hands.  But  it  was  a  strangeness.  Antony 
was  wonderfully  good  to  her,  beautifully  considerate. 
She  found  something  new  to  like  in  him  every  day, 
and  discovered,  almost  as  often,  some  unexpected 
trait  or  attainment  to  admire.  She  told  him  so  shyly 
one  evening,  and  he  laughed  with  his  face  against  hers. 
'Tis  not  a  year  or  two  shows  us  a  man,'  "  he  told 
her  teasingly. 

13 


14  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

And,  "So  I  begin  to  suspect,"  his  wife  retorted. 

She  was  very  happy.  The  ocean  and  the  sky  above 
it  did  not  seem  large  enough  to  hold  her  happiness; 
and,  as  for  her  own  heart,  it  ached  sometimes  with  the 
throb  and  the  crowding  of  her  new  joy.  But  she  missed 
her  father  sorely,  and  each  mile  farther  from  England 
she  missed  him  the  more. 

The  boat  was  full  of  Anglo-Indians,  of  course,  a 
few  going  out  for  the  first  time  to  take  up  new  ap 
pointments,  boys  with  their  first  commissions,  men  ex 
changing  into  Indian  regiments,  civil  servants ;  but  for 
the  most,  service  folk  and  civil  servants  returning  from 
leave.  Lucilla  noticed  that  they  grumbled  a  deal  at  the 
heat  and  the  "grind"  they  were  going  back  to,  but  it 
seemed  to  her  as  she  listened,  keenly  interested  in  even 
stray  words  that  might  tell  her  something  of  the  new 
world  in  which  she  was  going  to  live,  that  their  grum 
bling  was  more  a  convention  than  a  sincerity,  and  that 
they  one  and  all  were  looking  forward  to  India  as 
what  one  happy-faced  subaltern  frankly  called  it,  "a 
jolly  good  spree — what."  There  were  two  or  three 
globe-trotters  aboard,  an  isolated  and  cold-shouldered 
missionary,  and  three  or  four  business  men.  But  these 
scarcely  tinged  the  gathering,  for  none  of  them  in  the 
least  penetrated  into  the  "service"  fold.  It  was  almost 
a  secret  society  the  "service"  people  formed,  she  found ; 
and  certainly  a  jealously  kept  and  guarded  caste,  and 
the  army  people  sat  on  the  higher  seats. 

If  Mrs.  Crespin  was  proud  of  her  good-looking, 
soldierly  husband,  Captain  Crespin  was  openly  vain  of 
his  tall,  handsome,  girlish  wife.  And  because  he  was 
vain  of  her  he  genially  encouraged  the  acquaintance 
that  soon  buzzed  about  her. 

The  women  admired  her  frocks,  and  the  men  ad- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  15 

mired  her  eyes  and  the  way  she  walked,  and  both 
women  and  men  liked  her  for  her  fresh  girlishness. 
And,  if  some  of  the  women  envied  her  it,  not  one  of 
them  did  it  cattishly ;  and  several,  already  sallowed  from 
long  Indian  years,  pitied  her  too,  knowing  that  what 
India  had  done  to  their  skins  it  probably  would  do  to 
hers.  And  it  takes  a  very  sour  woman,  and  a  woman 
a  little  bad  at  core,  to  feel  unkindness  towards  a 
bride. 

Lucilla  Crespin  looked  younger  than  her  twenty 
years,  and,  tall  as  she  was,  securely  as  she  carried  her 
self,  girlishness  was  her  most  instantly  and  insistently 
obvious  point.  Many  a  country  priest's  motherless 
daughter — especially  an  only  daughter — looks  and 
seems  very  much  older  than  her  years.  But  in  no  sense 
had  Mrs.  Crespin  ever  been  "her  father's  curate,"  or 
the  villagers'  "mother."  Parochial  administration  and 
fad-philanthropy  had  never  attracted  her,  and  she  had 
firmly  left  them  alone.  They  had  not  sat  too  heavily 
on  Philip  Reynolds  himself,  and  had  shadowed  the 
Vicar  but  little,  and  had  shadowed  the  vicarage  life 
and  Lucilla  not  at  all.  He  was  always  readier  with 
half-crowns  than  with  soup  or  jellies,  and  he  prayed 
for  his  flock  more  than  he  fussed  it. 

He,  not  Lucilla,  had  been  the  housekeeper.  He  had 
a  flair  for  housekeeping,  and  she  had  not.  He  engaged 
the  servants,  arranged  the  menus  as  a  rule,  paid  the 
bills  and  planned  hospitalities.  Lucilla  had  had  an 
ample  allowance — Reynolds  liked  things  well  done, 
and  he  perfectly  knew  that  that  required  money — but 
she  never  exceeded,  rarely  spent,  all  of  it,  and  more 
often  than  not  consulted  her  father  about  the  color  and 
material  of  a  new  frock  The  result  had  justified  her 
— if  it  had  not  altogether  fitted  her  for  the  selection  of 


16  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

her  own  wardrobe  which  lay  before  her  now.  It  was 
thanks  chiefly  to  the  Reverend  Philip  Reynolds  that  the 
women  on  the  big  P.  and  O.  so  admired  young  Mrs. 
Crespin's  gowns.  He  had  taken  far  more  interest  in 
Lucilla's  trousseau  than  she  had — and  it  had  cost  him 
a  great  deal  of  money.  Little  as  she  knew  of  money, 
the  bills  for  that  trousseau  would  have  appalled  Lu- 
cilla,  if  she  ever  had  seen  them;  but  they  had  warmed 
the  Vicar's  heart  like  good  wine,  and  he  wrote  the 
checks  with  a  glowing  face,  and  with  a  complacent 
flourish  at  the  end  of  his  scholarly  signature.  There 
would  not  be  a  great  deal  to  leave  his  girl  at  his  death, 
but  he  had  no  wish  that  they  should  have  a  very  great 
deal;  and  Antony  had  enough.  And  Helen's  modest 
inheritance  was  secure  for  Lucilla. 

All  this  had  kept  Lucilla  Reynolds  very  young.  She 
had  had  few  tasks,  and  no  burdens.  She  never  had 
gone  to  school.  She  had  had  expensive  and  highly  ef 
ficient  governesses — the  best  that  large  salaries,  great 
care,  and  the  Vicar's  good  sense  and  fine  taste  could 
procure:  estimable  women  who  also  were  charming. 
But  none  of  them  had  lived  at  the  vicarage.  Lured 
from  London  and  Paris,  one  of  the  conditions  of  their 
engagement  always  had  been  that  they  should  find  for 
themselves  or  allow  Mr.  Reynolds  to  find  for  them 
apartments  at  a  reasonable  distance  from  the  vicarage, 
but  by  no  means  close  to  its  gates.  Their  holidays 
had  been  long,  and  their  teaching  hours  rather  short. 
They  had  had  no  sinecure — the  Vicar  knew  the  value 
of  money,  and  always  insisted  upon  getting  the  value 
of  his — but  none  of  Lucilla  Reynolds'  governesses 
had  been  overworked.  And  none  of  them  had  been 
encouraged  to  "mother"  the  girl,  and  certainly  none 
of  them  had  had  any  reason  to  regard  as  the  most  re- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  17 

mote  possibility  a  translation  from  governess  to  step 
mother.  They  had  been  handsomely  paid  to  teach,  and 
so  wisely  had  they  been  chosen  that  they  had  done  it 
handsomely.  They  had  loved  the  girl  too;  and  she 
had  liked  them  all,  but  she  had  loved  none  of  them. 
Lucilla  Crespin  had  felt  love  but  twice:  love  for  her 
father,  and  love  for  the  soldier  who  was  taking  her 
with  him  to  India  now.  And  she  scarcely  had  had  a 
girl  friend.  If  this  last  had  narrowed  her,  it  too  had 
preserved  her.  It  had  made  her  a  poor  hand  at  some 
sorts  of  "small  talk,"  but  it  had  kept  her  mind  fresh 
and  undiscolored. 

Philip  Reynolds  had  "formed"  his  girl  himself,  he 
and  the  books  he  had  shared  with  her  and  the  environ 
ment  he  had  given  her.  And  her  actual  "education" 
he  had  officered  even  more  than  any  of  her  paid 
teachers  had.  Had  their  wills  ever  clashed  or  their 
tastes  jarred,  such  constant  companionship  might  have 
rasped  the  girl.  But  their  wills  had  been  one,  and 
their  tastes  had  too.  Best  of  all,  for  her  welfare,  she 
never  had  been  able  to  feel  for  her  father  less  than 
absolute  respect.  And  she  had  always  had  to  be  proud 
of  him.  She  had  never  found  her  home  life  dull,  for 
the  father  had  been  a  perfect  playmate.  It  was  small 
wonder  that  she,  whose  girlhood  had  been  so  guarded, 
but  never  stagnant,  and  had  been  so  companioned — so 
rarely  companioned — was  younger  than  her  years — 
and  seemed  even  younger  than  she  was.  It  was  no 
wonder  at  all  that  she  missed  her  father.  She  missed 
him  terribly. 

There  were  a  number  of  men  and  several  women  on 
board  whom  Captain  Crespin  had  known  in  India,  had 
met  in  the  hills,  at  Calcutta  and  in  leaves  in  Kashmir; 


18  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

but  none  of  his  regiment,  or  of  his  own  station  in  the 
Punjab.  But  at  Malta  two  brother  officers,  returning 
from  a  shorter  leave  than  his,  joined  the  ship.  As  a 
matter  of  course  they  "chummed  up"  with  the  Crespins 
and  Crespin  with  them. 

They  had  heard  of  his  marriage,  and  were  not  a 
little  anxious  to  know  just  what  manner  of  girl  was 
coming  "on  to  their  strength."  There  were  only  four 
women  in  the  regiment — that  is,  actually  in  the  station 
— just  now,  and  in  the  small  station  there  was  no  other 
regiment,  and  no  social  life  whatever  beyond  what  the 
regiment  made  for  itself.  Where  the  women  were  so 
few  it  was  distinctly  important  what  manner  of  women 
they  were :  how  much  to  be  liked,  how  far  congenial 
and  helpful.  Two  of  the  ladies  already  with  the  regi 
mental  colors  were  dearly  loved  by  every  man  in  it; 
two  were  not.  The  new  Mrs.  Crespin  would  make  the 
preponderance  for  social  comfort  or  discomfort. 
Which?  Bruce  and  Crossland  wondered.  They  didn't 
say  so  to  each  other,  of  course.  India's  a  gossipy  place 
— Anglo-India — and  in  the  Punjabi  dearth  even  the 
soldier-men  "talk"  over  their  tobacco.  But  only  the 
"bounders"  ever  discuss  the  women  folk  of  brother  of 
ficers,  and  there  are  very  few  bounders  commissioned 
into  the  British  army,  and  the  few  that  are  are  rather 
apt  to  drift  out:  they  are  apt  to  find  that  there  is  not 
comfortable  room  for  them  in  their  regiment. 

Crossland  and  Bruce  had  never  so  much  as  hinted  to 
each  other  their  hope  and  their  fear  as  to  how  far 
Crespin's  wife  might  sweeten  or  bitter  their  next  few 
years.  But  both  knew  that  (and  what)  both  were 
hoping  and  fearing  somewhat  acutely. 

The  sun  was  setting  over  Valetta  as  the  great  P. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  19 

and  O.  swung  and  throbbed  back  to  her  course.  Malta 
lay  rose  and  gold  in  the  sunset,  the  Church  of  St.  John 
looked  gold  inlaid  with  pink  and  amber,  the  old  au- 
berges  where  the  Knights  once  kept  their  palaced  state 
sparkled  red  and  gold  in  the  heat  of  the  sun's  dying 
radiance,  and  the  exquisite  high-walled  little  gardens 
looked  chips  of  garnet,  emerald  and  topaz,  and  even 
the  carob-trees  and  prickly  pears  in  the  sparcer  bare 
and  rocky  valleys  were  jeweled  and  gay  in  the  waning 
splendor.  Back  of  and  over  the  city  of  Valetta,  with 
its  queer,  steep,  twisted  streets  and  its  picturesque  and 
magnificent  buildings — more  flowers,  more  great  and 
varied  architecture,  and  more  human  beings  and  homes 
are  packed  into  Malta's  teeming  ninety-five  square 
miles  than  are  in  the  same  space  anywhere  else — hung 
the  sunset's  gorgeous  curtain  of  ever-changing  ame 
thyst  and  gold,  crimson  and  rose  and  apple-green  and 
fire-shot  lemon,  and  here  in  front  of  the  island  at  her 
feet  the  great  blue  ocean  rippled  and  spread  like  a 
tremulous  carpet  woven  of  blue  and  green  gems. 

And  this  was  the  background  against  which,  when 
they  came  on  to  the  deck,  after  hastily  changing  for 
dinner,  Bruce  and  Crossland  first  saw  their  regiment's 
latest  recruit — Captain  Crespin's  girl-wife. 

The  Crespins  too  already  were  dressed  to  dine,  and 
she,  in  her  soft  frock  of  delicate  blue,  with  touches 
here  and  there  of  vivid  green  velvet,  which  the  Vicar 
had  proudly  pronounced  "most  happy,"  an  inch  of  sil 
very  gray  fur  at  its  fluted  hem,  a  great  bunch  of  saf 
fron  and  lemon  roses,  that  Crespin  had  bought  her  in 
Valetta's  fragrant  flower  market,  in  her  hands,  and 
a  rose — one  of  the  deep  ones — at  her  breast,  and  loosely 
over  her  hair  the  shawl  of  black  Maltese  lace  that  An 
tony  too  had  bought  as  they  wandered  about  the  old, 


20  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

once  Phoenician  town  of  the  Hospitalers,  looked  for  all 
her  palpably  English  tea-rose  face  not  unlike  some 
exquisite  Maltese. 

They  were  standing  by  the  rail,  watching  the  sunset 
city — the  Crespins — but  Antony  was  more  particularly 
watching  her,  his  face  turned  a  little  towards  the  deck, 
and  he  saw  his  brother  officers,  and  hailed  them. 

When  he  introduced  them  to  "my  wife,"  Bruce,  for 
getting  it  was  for  her  to  grant  it,  if  she  chose,  not  for 
him  to  ask  it,  impulsively  held  out  his  hand — after 
all  she  was  one  of  them  now — and  Lucilla  instantly 
and  cordially  gave  him  hers;  and  when  he  let  it  go, 
not  too  quickly,  she  held  it  out  with  a  pretty  friendly 
gesture,  half  girlish,  half  matronly  to  Dr.  Crossland, 
and  said  to  them  both,  "How  jolly !  I  thought  I  should 
have  to  wait  until  we  got  to  Sumnee  before  I  knew  any 
of  you.  This  is  ever  so  much  nicer."  And  her  big 
blue  eyes,  deep  and  clear  as  sapphires,  but  softer  under 
their  curled  fringe  of  long  dark  lashes,  said  shyly, 
"Please  like  me." 

"By  Jove,  Mrs.  Crespin" — she  was  not  very  used 
yet  to  being  called  so,  and  she  flushed  deliciously,  and 
a  dimple  trembled  at  one  corner  of  her  bow-shaped  red 
mouth — "By  Jove,  it  is  ripping  of  you  to  say  so," 
Bruce  stammered  delightedly.  And  Crossland  looked 
what  Bruce  had  said. 

They  saw  without  looking  the  relief  in  each  other's 
faces. 

Crespin  saw  it  too,  and  laughed  aloud. 

"What  is  it?"  Lucilla  demanded. 

"Ask  them,"  Antony  chuckled,  and  sauntered  off, 
leaving  the  three  alone. 

"What  was  Tony  laughing  at  ?"  the  girl  persisted. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  21 

Dr.  Crossland  smiled  sagely,  but  shook  his  head 
decidedly. 

"I'll  tell  you  some  day,  if  I  dare,  Mrs.  Crespin," 
Bruce  promised  her.  "Wouldn't  dare  tell  you  now, 
don't  you  know.  My  hat,  I'm  glad  we've  hopped  on 
to  your  boat — no  end  a  tamasha  we'll  have  getting  out 
to  our  3o6-in-the-shade  paradise.  I  say,  don't  you 
let  Crespin  give  us  the  slip  in  Calcutta,  will  you?" 

"Why  did  he  laugh?  What  was  funny?  Do  tell 
me." 

But  neither  man  would  do  that. 

But  they  each  fell  very  industriously  to  making  par 
ticularly  good  friends  with  Antony  Crespin's  wife. 

And  that  night  in  the  stateroom  they  shared  each 
made  a  cryptic  remark,  one  to  his  hair-brush,  one  to 
the  shoe  he  kicked  off. 

"Thank  the  Lord !"  Tom  Bruce  told  his  shoe  audibly. 

George  Crossland,  under  his  breath  said  to  his 
brush,  frowning  at  it,  "Poor  girl!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

"CHALL  I  like  India,  Captain  Bruce?" 

•^      "Sure  to — all  women  do.    But  you'll  jolly  well 
hate  Sumnee.     It's  the  jumping-off  place." 

"Shall  I  ?"  Mrs.  Crespin  repeated,  turning  a  little  to 
Grassland. 

"Like  India,  Mrs.  Crespin?  Most  women  do,  more 
than  like  it.  Bruce  is  right  there.  But  I'm  not  sure 
about  you." 

"Why?" 

"You  are  different,"  he  said  simply. 

"Why  shall  I  dislike  Sumnee?"  she  asked  them  both. 

"Good  Lord!"  Bruce  answered. 

"My  hat!"  Crossland  said. 

"As  bad  as  all  that?"  Lucilla  said  gayly. 

"Worse,"  they  both  answered  her  instantly. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  Tony?"  Mrs.  Crespin 
asked  severely. 

"You  mightn't  have  come,"  her  husband  told  her, 
"and  I  rather  wanted  you  to." 

Lucilla  blushed. 

"Don't  mind  us,"  Bruce  said  encouragingly. 

Dr.  Crossland  looked  out  over  the  water. 

But  it  was  to  him  that  she  said,  "Please  tell  me  about 
Sumnee." 

"Well,"  he  began,  "it's  hot." 

"Of  course,"  Lucilla  interrupted  him  scornfully, 
"it's  India.  Even  I  know  that.  Even  in  Surrey  we 
have  heard  that  it  is  warm  in  the  Punjab." 

22 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  23 

"You  have  heard  no  lie,"  Bruce  said  stoutly.  "Sur 
rey  !  Good  Lord — to  be  in  Surrey  when  the  marrow's 
in  bloom  and  the  cabbage  in  fruit,  and  the  starch 
stands  to  its  collar!  Hot!  Hot  isn't  the  word." 

"It  is  not,"  Crespin  agreed. 

"Is  Sumnee  so  very  hot,  Dr.  Crossland?" 

"Scorching!" 

"Go  on,"  she  prompted. 

"Well — there's  nothing  to  tell — really  there  isn't. 
There's  nothing  to  describe,  because  there's  nothing 
there.  There's  scarcely  a  tree." 

"I  shall  make  a  garden  at  once,  if  we  haven't  one." 

"You  will  not,"  Bruce  murmured. 

"Go  on,  Dr.  Crossland.  There  must  be  something 
to  tell  me." 

"And  there  isn't  a  decent  house." 

"But  there  must  be.    We  don't  live  in  tents,  do  we?" 

"We  live  in  mud  huts,"  Bruce  said  softly,  "and  live 
on  goat." 

"But  roast  kid  is  perfect.  Daddy  and  I  particularly 
like  it." 

"In  Sumnee  it  is — imperfect,"  Bruce  remarked 
grimly. 

But  though  they  railed,  Lucilla  Crespin  caught  a 
warm  undercurrent  of  affection,  of  pleasant  memories 
and  zesty  anticipations  in  the  raillery.  Every  woman 
owns  to  liking  India  greatly;  most  men  pose  as  dis 
liking  it — while  they  are  there;  but  ask  the  Anglo- 
Indian  "home  now  for  good,"  when  you  run  across 
him  in  the  Strand,  just  there  at  Charing  Cross  where 
we  all  meet  each  other  sooner  or  later — and  he'll  tell 
you,  if  he's  English-honest,  that  he  is  homesick  for 
India,  rains,  droughts,  natives  and  all;  and  watch 
the  face  of  the  long-service  Anglo-Indian  going  home 


24  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

for  the  last  time,  going  home  to  inheritance,  increased 
fortune  and  ease  perhaps — watch  his  face  and  his  eyes 
as  the  P.  and  O.  or  troop-ship  pulls  off  from  Bombay 
or  Madras  or  down  the  Hugli,  and  he  takes  his  long 
last  look  at  the  sweltering  East!  You  will  not  need 
to  ask  him. 

They  were  having  afternoon  tea  on  deck,  Malta 
two  days  behind  them — the  sun-awnings  were  up  now, 
and  ices  were  served  at  eleven  and  three — and  Crespin 
said  as  he  held  his  cup  up  for  her  to  fill  it  again, 
"Never  mind,  Lu,  you  shall  have  a  garden  of  sorts, 
and  these  blighters  shall  dig  it,  while  you  and  I  sit 
under  the  veranda  punkah  and  eat  mango-ices  and 
stone-cold  pumelos.  You  shall  have  all  the  comfy 
home  things,  every  one  of  them.  And  perhaps  you 
won't  quite  hate  poor  old  rotten  Sumnee.  I  shall  like 
Sumnee  now." 

"You,  you  lucky  beggar — of  course  you  will.  Who 
wouldn't,  in  your  shoes?"  Bruce  grumbled.  "But  per 
haps  we'll  like  it  better  too — now — "  he  added  more 
cheerfully.  "And  we'll  teach  you  how  to  play  parlor 
polo,  and  how  to  make  toothsome  chupatties  out  of 
mud  and  cocoanut  fat,  and  how  to  eat  mangoes  without 
a  bib  on,  and,  if  you'll  let  us,  come  to  tea  every  day, 
and  tiffin  on  Sundays,  and  dinner  quite  often,  we'll 
give  you  curly  daggers  and  beetle-work  lace  curtains 
and  bunches  of  cactus  dahlias  and  crushed  torquoise 
things  from  the  Vale  of  Kashmir,  Lucknow  enamels 
— fish-pattern  ones,  Bokhara  cloths,  Poona  trays,  Be 
nares  brass-work,  Deccan  snakes  (tin,  not  live  ones) 
and  peacock- feather  fans,  thousands  and  thousands 
of  peacock  feathers,  painted  leather  Bikanir  vases  and 
glass  bangles,  and  tin  toe-rings  to  make  your  drawing- 
room  beautiful." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  25 

"But,  you  mustn't,"  Lucilla  Crespin  told  him  firmly. 
"I  intend  our  home  to  be  absolutely  English.  There 
shall  not  be  even  one  thing  in  it  that  isn't  quite  Eng 
lish,  not  one  that  hasn't  come  from  home." 

"Right-o!"  Bruce  consented.  "We'll  forgive  you, 
so  long  as  you  ask  us  to  tea  every  day  and  tiffin  on 
Sundays,  and  dinner  very  often.  And  you  and  I  will 
sit  on  the  veranda  under  the  punkah,  and  eat  mango- 
ices  and  chilled  pumelos,  while  Crespin  and  Crossland 
dig  your  garden  and  swear  at  each  other." 

"I  shall  not  have  a  punkah,"  Mrs.  Crespin  said 
severely.  "I  shall  have  nothing,  I  tell  you,  that  we 
do  not  have  at  home.  Our  home  is  going  to  be  an 
English  home." 

"You'll  have  a  punkah,  dear,"  said  Crespin  softly. 
"You'll  have  several." 

"My  hat,  you  will !"  Bruce  exclaimed.  "And  you'll 
have  a  few  other  things  that  are  not  strictly  English 
— what.  White  ants  in  the  sugar,  silver-fish  and 
lizards — single  spies  and  whole  battalions  of  them — • 
on  your  walls  and  out  for  a  ride  on  the  train  of  your 
dinner-gown,  and  centipedes,  and  cheetahs  grinning  in 
.at  the  windows,  jackals  serenading  you  every  night, 
and  goat  to  eat,  I  repeat,  which  will  not  taste  like  in 
fant  Southdown,  and  native  servants.  You  may  like 
the  native  servants,  and  you  may  not.  It's  a  matter 
of  taste." 

But  Lucilla  only  laughed.  "I'm  not  afraid,  Captain 
Bruce,"  she  said.  "You  can't  frighten  me." 

Crossland  said  nothing,  but  he  studied  the  waves 
gravely  as  they  foamed  and  beat  at  each  other  in 
ocean  play,  and  his  eyes  were  cloudy.  So  another 
English  woman  was  coming  to  India  to  live  in  it  apart 
from  its  peoples  and  beauties  and  wisdoms — to  hold 


26  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

her  skirts  aside  from  India,  He  thought  it  a  pity. 
He'd  seen  it  so  often — and  he  believed  it  the  most 
dangerous  of  the  several  rocks  upon  which  the  ship 
of  Empire  might  some  day  split  and  go  down. 


CHAPTER  V 

LUCILLA  CRESPIN  did  not  like  Sumnee.  She 
liked  her  life  there  fairly  well.  She  loved  her 
home  there.  She  loved  Antony.  She  liked  some  of 
his  friends.  She  loved  her  happiness,  and  nourished 
and  cherished  it.  She  liked  the  English  Club  measur 
ably;  she  liked  the  tennis  court  palely — it  was  better 
than  none,  but  it  was  a  poor  imitation  of  tennis  courts 
in  Surrey.  She  did  make  a  garden,  verbenas  in  flower 
pots  mostly,  and  she  tried  to  like  it;  and  when  they 
came  she  worshiped  her  babies.  But  she  did  not  like 
Sumnee.  She  did  not  even  like  India. 

But  she  was  happy  in  Sumnee.  Not  every  one  can 
be  happy  in  a  place  they  dislike;  but  there  are  some  so 
equipped  for  happiness  that  they  can  find,  or,  not  find 
ing,  make  it,  almost  anywhere,  and  it  requires  far 
less  personal  balance  and  natural  joyousness  than 
Lucilla  had,  to  be  happy  in  London  (or  even  in  Ber 
lin)  when  one  would  far  rather  live  in  New  York, 
if  one  is  young,  radiantly  well,  comfortably  pursed 
(one  can  buy  a  deal  of  happiness)  and  loves  and  is 
loved.  Mrs.  Crespin  was  happy  in  Sumnee — at  first. 
And  the  years  passed.  But  her  years  taught  her  much 
that  "her  days  never  knew" — for  a  while. 

It  is  said  that  all  English  women  like  India,  and 
very  much  like  living  there.  Most  of  them  do — but 
there  are  exceptions. 

Two  classes  of  European  women  like  and  enjoy 
India  very  much:  the  first  and  greatly  preponderant 

27 


28  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

class  are  the  have-a-good-time  ones,  by  no  means  bad 
sorts,  as  a  rule,  but  brave,  gay  things  who  like  to 
wear  frilly  white  gowns,  and  give  much  time  and  care 
to  dressing  their  hair,  tree  their  boots  and  slippers 
and  shoes,  read  "The  Queen"  and  "La  Monde"  (if 
they  can,  and  if  they  can't,  study  its  plates),  and  are 
particularly  proud  of  their  afternoon  tea-table  pretties 
of  silver  and  lace.  They  like  the  punkahs,  the  abun 
dance  of  servants — servants  who  rarely  "give  notice," 
and  never  sulk — mango-ices  and  picnics  by  moonlight. 
They  even  enjoy  making  both  ends  meet — no  one  too 
much  minds  being  poor  in  the  East;  at  least,  if  one 
has  some  sort  of  entree  to  Government  House,  and 
one's  man's  in  the  Army.  Viceroys  are  not  poor,  as 
a  rule — they  would  find  it  inconvenient,  for  big  as  their 
"screw"  is,  it  isn't  enough;  but  Commanders-in-Chief 
have  been  poor  enough  before  now,  and,  if  one  has 
to  skimp,  one  has  the  satisfaction  of  doing  it  in  the 
best  of  company,  and  in  the  best  good-fellowship  in 
the  world.  But  there  are  women — the  have-a-good- 
time-and-take-care-of-your-man  ones — who  like  India 
but  never  know  or  sense  it.  Young  Mrs.  Crespin  was 
not  one  of  these,  but  she  had  several  of  their  insular 
traits,  and  lived  no  little  of  their  life.  The  other  class 
,(it  is  very  small)  are  caught  by  the  lure  of  the  real 
India.  Its  story  appeals  to  them,  its  peoples  and  its 
myriad  wonders  and  beauties.  They  feel  her  marvel. 
And  they  catch  the  throb  of  her  heart  beneath  the  im 
penetrable  mask,  and  respond  and  are  grateful.  Mrs. 
Crespin  was  not  one  of  these. 

There  is  a  third  class — a  very  powerful  and  beau 
tiful  class,  which  includes  some  of  the  other  two: 
women  who  follow  the  drum,  sometimes  to  Simla  and 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  29 

other  pleasant,  cool  hill  places,  sometimes  to  desolate, 
sun-baked  spots  where  the  ice  often  gives  out,  and 
nothing  ever  happens,  and  who  take  it  all,  and  the 
make-shifts  of  outlandish  frontier  stations  with  quiet 
good  humor;  women  whose  courage  and  unselfishness 
are  very  fine,  and  very  womanly.  They  are  a  great 
racial  asset,  the  strength  and  the  solace  of  their  men 
folk;  and,  if  they  spared  of  the  devotion  they  lavish 
on  those  same  British  soldier-men  one  tithe  to  the 
brown  human  peoples  that  live  about  them,  and  minister 
to  them  so  loyally,  they  would  be  a  greater  asset  of 
permanent  and  successful  Empire  than  any  in  White 
hall. 

One  of  these  Lucilla  might  have  been — she  shaped 
towards  it  at  first — but  circumstances  (fate,  if  you 
like)  balked  it. 

India,  great  gold  and  rose  India,  marbled,  carved, 
mosaicked,  caravaned,  with  its  bazaars  and  temples 
and  its  lonely  peasant  huts,  its  seas  of  quivering  bam 
boo  and  its  music  of  glass  and  silver  bangles  and 
anklets,  its  beautiful  naked,  plump  butchas,  its  sacred 
purdahs,  its  mingled  perfumes  of  lotus  and  wild  yellow 
hyacinths,  of  pink  jasmine  and  red,  red  roses,  its  dark- 
eyed,  wrinkled,  patient  cattle  with  ropes  of  marigold 
slung  between  their  snow-white  and  cream-colored 
humps,  its  storied  rivers — and  the  Himalayas,  might 
have  appealed  to  her  as  the  Vicar  had  thought  it  would, 
could  she  have  seen  it  with  him,  or  in  other  guidance 
as  cordial  and  fit.  But  she  saw  it  through  the  dry 
choking  dust  of  a  hot,  arid,  flat  Punjabi  station, 
sensed  it  through  the  chatter  of  an  English  Club — 
and,  so,  neither  saw  nor  sensed  it  at  all.  She  never 
touched  its  people.  Her  syce  was  merely  a  servant,  sc 


30  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

impersonal  that  she  never  knew  or  asked  his  name,- 
her  house  servants  were  nothing  to  her  but  "boys," 
and  even  the  ayah  who  tended  upon  her  deftly  and 
faithfully,  and  saved  her  baby's  life  when  croup  and 
convulsions  nearly  killed  it,  was  only  an  ayah.  Mrs. 
Crespin,  as  sweet  at  heart  as  the  roses  in  the  Surrey 
vicarage  garden,  never  knew  her  ayah's  name,  never 
thought  of  her  as  having  one,  never  knew  where  she 
lived,  what  she  ate,  or  thought,  or  believed;  never 
wondered  what  were  her  joys  and  sorrows,  never  won 
dered  if  she  ever  had  ache  or  pain;  never  knew,  or 
cared  to  know,  whether  the  native  woman  was  married 
or  not,  or  widowed,  or  whether  she  had  a  child  of 
her  own. 

But  she  was  happy  at  Sumnee — at  first  She  had 
Antony,  and  Antony  was  enough. 

Her  homesickness  never  quite  ceased  to  ache,  and 
she  missed  riding  and  games.  She  had  both  at  Sum- 
nee,  but  both  were  poor  substitutes  for  those  she  had 
at  "home."  Always  athletic,  she  was  not  fully  satis 
fied  at  playing  at  sports,  and  gymkanas  bored  her 
almost  as  much  as  church  bazaars  had,  and  the  Vicar 
of  Oxlea  always  had  rather  discouraged  church  ba 
zaars.  Womanly,  yet  she  was  not  a  woman's  woman 
— and  life  in  an  out-of-the-way  one-regiment  station 
in  the  plains  is  apt  to  be  hard  on  a  woman  who  does 
not  greatly  care  for  feminine  society,  but  has  no  co 
quetry  in  her.  But  she  had  Antony,  and  she  was 
happy,  and  when  the  promise  of  motherhood  pulsed 
she  was  more  than  happy.  And,  if  many  of  her  hours 
were  alone  ones,  she  had  many  books,  and  she  read 
hour  after  hour  almost  every  day. 

Twice  the  Yule-log  burned  on  her  bungalow  hearth 
— great  chunks  of  fragrant  deodar  that  Lucilla  gar- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  31 

landed  with  ribbons;  the  heat  they  made  in  December 
in  the  plains  was  appalling,  but  Lucilla  Crespin  would 
not  keep  Christmas  without  them.  And  they  ate  their 
plum-pudding  hot  and  flaming;  and  there's  no  dearth 
of  holly  in  India,  if  you  know  where  to  send  for  it. 
Twice  her  Yule-log  burned  on  her  bungalow  hearth. 
And  then  the  crash  came. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ARMISTICE  DAY  and  its  solemn  celebrations 
had  passed — but  not  its  deep  thanksgiving — 
when  the  regiment  was  ordered  to  Dehra  Dun,  a  more 
interesting,  less  narrowed  station  in  itself  and  less 
service-bound.  There  was  civilian  life  in  Dehra  Dun, 
and  Mrs.  Crespin  was  not  sorry  to  know  a  few  civil 
ians  again.  She  made  several  interesting  such  ac 
quaintances  there,  and  the  most  interesting  of  them 
all  turned  out  to  be  an  old  schoolmate  of  Major 
Crespin's. 

The  Great  War  had  irked  Crespin — because  in  it 
he  had  been  debarred  from  the  active  service  he 
craved  to  be  sent  on  in  Europe,  or  even  in  Egypt  or 
Mesopotamia,  and  had  been  kept  relentlessly  in  India 
— and  hurt  him  as  only  a  soldierly  soldier  can  be  hurt, 
and  by  that  one  thing:  having  to  "stand-by"  and  do 
the  "damned  cushy"  jobs,  when  other  chaps — "lucky 
devils" — were  losing  legs  and  eyes  and  lives  in  Flan 
ders  and  Gallipoli — but  also  it  incidentally  made  him 
a  Major,  and  a  really  fine  wireless  expert. 

He  did  his  "bit,"  of  course,  and  he  did  it  well.  But 
who  did  not  do  their  bit  from  the  August  of  1914  till 
Armistice  Day,  and  a  little  longer!  He  did  his  bit, 
but  he  chafed  and  swore,  and  came  near  breaking 
his  heart. 

Basil  Traherne — the  celebrated  Dr.  Traherne  now 
— and  Antony  Crespin  had  been  at  Harrow  together, 
fag  and  fag-master.  But  they  had  not  met  since, 
and  Crespin  seemed  less  glad  to  reencounter  his  one- 

32 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  33 

time  fag  than  might  have  been  natural;  for  Traherne 
had  been  a  good  and  a  devoted  fag,  and  the  boys  had 
been  really  good  friends. 

But — there — that  was  over  twenty  years  ago — 
Crespin  was  thirty-eight  now,  and  Traherne  was  thirty- 
three — and  a  good  deal  changes  in  most  of  us,  as  well 
as  around  us,  in  twenty  years.  And  friendships  that 
r.ever  are  fed  by  so  much  as  a  letter  must  be  the  ex 
ceptional  friendships  of  very  exceptional  people,  if 
they  lose  nothing  in  twenty  years.  How  many  ever 
have? 

Mrs.  Crespin  liked  Traherne  immediately,  and  he 
returned  her  liking  cordially — and  was  grateful  for  it. 
And  Major  Crespin  was  more  glad  to  have  the  physi 
cian  "amuse  the  wife"  than  he  was  to  see  much  of 
him  himself,  or  with  anything  of  an  old  intimacy 
that  time  had  shrunk  and  withered. 

Traherne  interested  Lucilla  Crespin  at  once — they 
seemed  to  like  and  to  dislike  (a  surer  test  of  sympathy) 
the  same  people,  things  and  books.  And  when  she 
heard  that  he  not  only  was  the  perhaps  greatest  living 
authority  on  malaria,  and  certainly  the  coming  doctor- 
man  as  far  as  Oriental  disease  was  concerned,  but  also 
was  "mad  on  flying,"  was  no  mean  pilot,  and  had  a 
"bus"  of  his  own,  she  actually  clapped  her  hands, 
and  said,  "Oh,  Dr.  Traherne — I  never  have  been — 
will  you  take  me  up  ?" 

And  several  men,  Colonel  Agnew  among  them,  wno 
saw  and  heard,  who  always  had  known  that  she  was 
decidedly  good-looking,  discovered  for  the  first  time 
that  she  was  positively  lovely.  Arid  the  Colonel  was 
vastly  pleased  that  "Crespin's  wife  had  found  some 
thing  to  wake  her  up  again,  something  to  interest  her, 
don't  you  know,  and  make  a  fad  of.  Every  woman 


34  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

needs  a  fad — such  a  safety-valve  and  pick-me-up  to 
'em,  God  bless  'em,  as  polo,  or  whist  or  the  Times  is 
to  us,  by  Jove." 

Colonel  Agnew — Crespin's  C.  O. — had  a  cold  blue 
eye,  a  terrible  temper,  as  curry-hot  as  any  in  Anglo- 
India  (you  can't  say  more  than  that),  and  a  heart  of 
soft  warm  gold.  He  admired  Mrs.  Crespin  more  than 
any  woman  he  knew,  and  loved  her  almost  as  much 
as  he  did  Kathleen,  his  own  motherless  girl.  He 
wouldn't  have  liked  her  so  well  if  his  wife,  who 
had  not  died  until  two  years  after  Lucilla  joined  the 
regiment,  had  not  liked  her  very  much  indeed,  and 
approved  her  warmly,  and  if  Kathleen  did  not — and 
he  was  no  worse  a  man  and  no  worse  a  soldier  for  that. 
But  he  was  not  cut  very  strictly  to  pattern  in  it,  or  in 
several  other  respects.  He  held  Mrs.  Crespin  very 
high.  And  he  was  fatherly-fond  of  her.  And  he  was 
grateful  to  her.  At  first  he  had  warmed  to  her 
because  he  felt  that  she,  and  her  good-looks  and  poise, 
did  the  regiment  credit.  Then  he  had  liked  her  for 
her  more  intimate  self,  and  because  Mary  and  Kath 
leen  did.  To  do  the  regiment  the  smallest  good-turn, 
to  enhance  it  in  any  way  directly  or  indirectly,  was 
for  Colonel  Agnew  instantly  to  write  himself  down 
very  much  in  your  debt:  if  you  were  a  small  drummer 
boy  who  drummed  well  and  loyally,  a  matranee  who 
swept  the  sergeant's  mess  out  as  a  sergeant's  mess 
should  be  swept,  or  a  visiting  general  who  gave  the 
men  and  officers  their  due.  Too,  Agnew  was  grateful 
to  Mrs.  Crespin  for  a  service  not  exactly  regimental; 
for  it  was  she  who  under  God  had  coaxed  Kathleen 
back  into  her  senses  when  that  blithering  young  ass 
Bob  Grant  had  made  such  a  silly  goat  of  himself — 
before  Colonel  Agnew  had  contrived  a  way  to  get  the 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  35 

fool  transferred.  The  old  soldier  felt  that  he  owed 
Mrs.  Crespin  more  than  he  could  hope  ever  to  pay. 
And  he  had  been  sore  at  heart  over  her  this  many 
a  day  now.  And  when  he  saw  her  eyes  sparkle,  and 
her  old  rose  color  come  at  Traherne's  "flying"  talk, 
he  vowed  hotly  then  and  there  (but  not  aloud)  that 
she  should  "go  up,"  if  she  liked,  and  as  often  as  she 
liked,  and  he  was  damned  if  Crespin  should  prevent  it. 

But  Major  Crespin  hacl  no  wish  to  do  that.  He 
was  only  too  glad  to  have  any  pleasure  fall  to  his 
wife.  And  so  Mrs.  Crespin  went  up  with  Traherne, 
and  very  much  more  than  once.  Crespin  went  with 
them  once  or  twice,  but  he  did  not  care  for  it  greatly, 
and  he  didn't  mind  saying  so.  Usually  Traherne 
and  Mrs.  Crespin  flew  alone — with  or  without  a 
mechanic.  They  did  not  fly  very  far,  and  they  did 
not  fly  over-often,  and  Traherne  took  no  risks  when 
his  friend's  wife  was  with  him.  But  Lucilla  Crespin 
liked  it  keenly ;  she  talked  about  it,  and  thought  about 
it  a  great  deal,  far  less  silent  now  than  she  had  been 
since  before  the  war,  and  a  happier  light  crept  into 
her  eyes,  and  a  soft  glow  on  her  face.  And  Crespin 
was  as  gratified  as  the  Colonel  himself  was.  Antony 
Crespin  was  as  glad  to  have  Lucilla  go  as  she  was 
to  go,  and  as  Dr.  Traherne  was  to  take  her. 

Once  or  twice  Captain  Bruce  went  up  with  them, 
and  they  made  several  attempts  to  take  the  Colonel. 

But  the  Colonel  swore  at  the  very  suggestion.  He 
had  the  V.  C.  and  he  had  earned  it.  He  was  cheerfully 
(and  profanely)  ready  to  shoot  promptly  any  one  who 
called  him  a  coward,  but  there  was  just  one  thing  he 
wouldn't  do  either  for  King  or  Country — he  wouldn't 
go  monkeying  about  in  the  air  like  a  loon;  and  Kath 
leen  shouldn't  do  it  either. 


36  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

There  are  no  tete-a-tetes  in  the  air — none  at  least 
in  which  the  pilot  shares.  But  they  shared  an  exhilara 
tion,  a  splendid  new  experience,  and  a  pastime  that 
they  almost  equally  liked.  And  they  mutually  knew 
that  they  liked  to  share  it  all,  and  enjoyed  and  treasured 
it  more  because  they  shared  it.  And  the  very  silences 
it  enforced  fed  the  intimacy  that  grew  between  them. 

When  they  came  back,  and  landed,  it  was  natural 
that  more  often  than  not  Dr.  Traherne  took  Mrs. 
Crespin  to  her  bungalow,  and  that  when  they  had 
reached  it  he  followed  her  in  for  tiffin  or  tea.  They 
found  a  great  deal  to  say  to  each  other,  about  books 
and  people  and  things  in  England.  He  knew  he  was 
welcome;  she  knew  that  he  liked  to  be  there.  And 
Traherne's  visits  at  the  Crespins'  bungalow  gradually 
grew  more  frequent  and  longer.  And  Major  Crespin 
stayed  at  home  more  and  more,  strolled  off  to  mess  or 
club  less  and  less  when  Traherne  was  in  the  drawing- 
room  or  on  the  veranda.  And  something  of  the  old, 
cordial  relation  between  them  at  Harrow  came  back 
to  the  two  men  at  Dehra  Dun.  Lucilla  and  Traherne 
did  the  most  of  the  talking  when  they  three  were  to 
gether.  And  often  Antony  Crespin  scarcely  knew 
what  they  were  talking  about ;  but  he  liked  to  listen — 
and  sometimes  to  guy  as  he  lounged  near  and  played 
with  Iris  and  Ronald — and  they  liked  to  have  him  there 
with  them,  listening  and  guying. 

Traherne  played  with  the  youngsters  often  too. 
They  were  attractive  children — not  ayah-spoiled  yet, 
and  the  bachelor  physician  was  very  fond  of  children. 
And  little  Iris  and  Ronald  Crespin  soon  came  to  claim 
him  as  very  much  a  possession  of  their  own. 

If  his  regiment  was  at  once  Colonel  Agnew's  weak 
ness  and  strength,  equally  her  babies  were  Lucilla  Cres- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  37 

pin's — her  weakness  and  her  strength.  Iris  was  four 
now,  Ronald  was  two.  And  Antony  Crespin  loved 
them  both  almost  as  much  as  he  loved  his  wife. 

All  the  regiment  knew,  and  as  good  as  all  of  the 
station,  that  there  was  an  ugly,  desperate  rift  in  the 
Crespins'  lute. 

Major  Crespin  drank. 

And  he  had  not  been  faithful. 

Every  one  blamed  him  fiercely.  And  no  one  in  the 
least  blamed  Mrs.  Crespin  for  anything  that  had  come 
or  might  come — no  one  but  Basil  Traherne. 

He  blamed  them  both,  and  pitied  them  both.  He 
believed  that  Mrs.  Crespin  could  have  handled  the 
tragedy  more  wisely  and  more  usefully  than  she  did. 
He  believed  that  she,  unconsciously,  withheld  help  and 
rescue  which  she,  but  no  one  else,  might  have  given, 
and  Antony  seized.  No  one  else  saw  or  thought  any 
thing  of  the  sort — Lucilla  Crespin  least  of  all.  But 
it's  a  habit  and  gift  able  physicians  have :  to  see  into 
things.  Each  finger  a  scalpel,  each  pore  a  magnifying 
glass ;  exquisite  manhood,  a  vigilant  brain,  a  great  sym 
pathetic  heart,  an  absolute  balance  and  sense  of  jus 
tice,  and  an  intelligence  that  cannot  be  tricked — and 
that  is  what  good  doctors  are  made  of!  Basil  Tra 
herne  was  a  very  great  physician. 

He  saw  the  rift  as  clearly  as  any — deplored  it  more 
than  most,  and  knew,  what  no  one  else  but  Antony 
himself  did,  that  because  of  it  and  of  what  had  made 
it,  Major  Crespin  suffered  and  regretted  even  more 
intensely  than  the  woman  did. 

Dr.  Traherne  believed  that  some,  not  much,  but 
some,  of  the  fault  was  Lucilla  Crespin' s.  And  that 
he  did,  proves  him  as  fine  in  manhood  as  he  was  in 
physicianship;  for,  before  he  had  known  her  a  month 


38  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Traherne  knew  that  he  loved  Antony  Crespin's  wife. 
He  had  never  loved  a  woman  before — or  even  thought 
that  he  had.  He  believed  he  never  could  care  for 
another.  And  Dr.  Traherne  was  thirty-six. 


CHAPTER  VII 

COLONEL  AGNEW  was  furious,  splutteringly, 
dementedly  furious,  and  at  the  same  time  coldly, 
and  determinedly  furious.  No  one  ever  had  seen  him 
so  angry  before.  Kathleen,  who  ruled  and  teased  and 
mocked  him  openly,  poured  out  his  coffee,  and  passed 
him  the  ginger- jam  silently  and  abjectly.  And  a  few 
moments  after  breakfast  she  fled  from  his  presence — 
her  own  Daddy  darling's — determined  to  avoid  it  for 
the  rest  of  that  day. 

When  Satan,  his  four-footed  pal,  sat  up  and  begged 
for  his  after-breakfast  lump  the  master  had  refused  it, 
and  thundered,  "Go  to  hell !"  No  one  ever  had  known 
Agnew  to  lose  his  temper  with  Satan,  and  the  terrier 
flounced  down  on  all  paws,  and  slunk  sugarless  out  of 
the  room. 

"Prayers,  Daddy?"  Kathleen  said,  as  naturally  as 
she  could,  when  they'd  pushed  back  their  chairs.  The 
Colonel  was  a  staunch  churchman,  but  no  cut-and-dried 
one;  usually  he  read  a  chapter  to  his  girl  after  break 
fast,  and  they  said  "Our  Father"  together,  and  then, 
if  it  wasn't  too  late,  he'd  bid  her  sing  some  hymn 
her  mother  had  loved  and  sung — usually,  but  not  al 
ways,  and  it  was  Kathleen  Agnew's  daily  duty — al 
most  her  only  enforced  one — to  ask  if  it  was  a  "pray 
ers"  day,  and  to  follow  him  into  his  den,  and  find  the 
place  in  the  Bible,  if  it  was. 

"Prayers,  Daddy?"  she  asked  gently. 

"Prayers  be  damned !"  was  the  terrible  reply  she  got, 

39 


40  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

and  all  she  got — not  even  a  glance — as  the  Colonel 
stalked  prayerless  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  then  she'd  beaten  her  retreat.  "Poor 
Daddy!"  she  thought.  "How  terribly  he's  feeling  it!" 
She  shook  her  pretty,  yellow  head  sadly  after  his  grim, 
gaunt  gray  one,  and  then  smiled  rather  brokenly.  For 
she  thought  there  had  been  a  lump  in  his  throat — of 
course  Daddy  couldn't  read  prayers  with  a  lump  in  his 
throat,  poor  dear.  And  Kathleen  knew  what  it  all  was 
about.  It  was  early  morning  yet,  but  all  the  regiment 
knew,  and  by  tiffin  all  the  station  would  know.  And 
Whitehall  would  know  by  the  very  next  mail  home. 

It  was  all  up  with  Major  Crespin  now.  He'd  have 
to  send  in  his  papers  this  time.  Every  man  in  the 
regiment  knew  it,  every  native  regimental  servant. 
Every  servant  in  the  Colonel-sahib's  bungalow  knew 
it.  Native  women  filling  their  jars  at  the  wells  were 
talking  it  over.  Iris  and  Ronald's  ayah  and  bearer 
had  known  it  hours  ago.  The  Parsi  money  changer 
who  lived  near  the  native  bazaar,  in  the  old  house  off 
of  whose  thick  walls  most  of  the  magenta  paint  had 
cracked  and  gone,  and  AH  Lai,  the  melon-seller  who 
drove  his  best  trade  in  the  despised  Eurasian  quarter, 
knew  it  too.  Such  news  is  no  laggard  in  India;  it  flies 
faster  than  kites. 

It  was  this : 

At  mess  the  night  before  Major  Crespin  had  be 
fouled  and  disgraced  the  regiment.  And  it  had  been 
guest  night.  A  bishop  from  Bangalore,  a  general  (al 
most  a  commander-in-chief)  from  the  Madras  Presi 
dency,  and — a  thousand  times  worse,  more  bitter — an 
American  officer  of  high  rank,  and  Dr.  Traherne  had 
been  the  guests. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  41 

Crespin  had  had  a  fagging  day,  the  Adjutant  had 
looked  at  him  suspiciously  once  or  twice,  and  when  the 
dinner  hour  came  Major  Crespin  had  had  almost 
enough.  When  sweetbreads  followed  the  fish  he  had 
had  enough.  And  he  grew  offensive  before  the  game. 
He  came  dangerously  near  contradicting  the  General 
twice.  He  mentioned  a  woman's  name — one  of  the 
regimental  ladies — and,  in  what  he  said,  quite  unob- 
jectionably,  but  a  woman's  name  is  not  mentioned  in 
the  officers'  mess.  You  may  think  of  her  there — sub 
alterns  have  owned  to  having  done  it — but  you  may 
not  voice  her  name.  It  isn't  done.  He  had  spilled 
claret,  and  he  had  offered  the  Bishop  a  warm  letter  of 
personal  introduction  to  the  premiere  danseuse  of  a 
French  Company  crowding  a  Calcutta  theater  just  then 
— an  artiste  notoriously  as  frail  of  virtue  as  she  was 
shameless  in  posture  and  skilful  of  feet.  He  had 
made — to  the  American — an  unpardonable  remark 
about  Lee  and  Grant.  It  was  all  covered  up,  or  at 
tempted  to  be.  The  affronted  guests  all  were  not  only 
gentlemen  but  jolly  good  fellows,  and  two  of  them  had 
met  Mrs.  Crespin.  It  was  smothered,  talked  under 
and  shunted;  and  Traherne,  the  American  officer,  and 
the  Bishop  more  than  half  hoped  that  Agnew,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table  from  Crespin,  had  not  noticed 
or  realized.  He  had  given  no  sign,  and  Crespin  had 
purred  his  impertinences  a  little  thickly,  not  shouted 
them,  or  pronounced  them  too  clearly. 

But  at  "Gentlemen,  the  King,"  as  Agnew  lifted  his 
glass,  Major  Crespin,  swaying  a  little  on -his  feet, 
clutched  at  the  back  of  the  chair,  hiccuped  painfully, 
looked  about  him  with  a  bleary  smile,  and  collapsed 
half  onto  his  chair,  half  onto  the  table. 


42  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

There  was  nothing  to  be  hoped  then.     There  was 
nothing  that  could  be  done. 
No  more  need  be  said. 
It  was  final. 

And  now  it  was  the  next  morning,  that  terrible,  piti 
less  next  morning  that  always  comes,  and  always  must, 
unless  God  grants  the  mercy  of  Death  before  the  dawn. 

It  was  the  next  morning  and  Antony  Crespin,  twitch 
ing  and  sick,  lay  wide  awake  on  Traherne's  bed. 

He  was  suffering  exquisite  bodily  torture.  Tra- 
herne  had  done  what  he  could.  But  that  debt  has  to 
be  paid.  And  it's  an  I.O.U.  that  no  friend's  purse 
can  take  up.  The  debtor  himself  has  to  pay. 

But  his  mental  torment  was  more  than  his  quivering 
of  fevered  flesh  and  frightened  trembling  of  sick,  cir 
cling  stomach.  And  his  sorrow  and  shame  of  spirit 
were  more  than  his  wife's  were,  lying  tearless,  face 
down  on  her  own  bed.  And  Doctor  Traherne — glass 
in  hand — sensed  that  it  was  so,  and  pitied  Crespin 
even  more  than  he  pitied  Lucilla,  even  more  than  he 
pitied  unconscious,  happy  Iris  and  Ronald. 

But  an  ounce  of  help  is  worth  more  than  a  pound  of 
pity  any  day — and  most  especially  is  this  true  "the  next 
morning."  Traherne  slid  his  strong  arm  carefully 
under  Crespin's  head,  and  held  the  glass  deftly  to  his 
mouth.  The  champagne  was  vintage  and  extra  sec. 

In  spite  of  himself,  in  spite  of  his  despair — it  was 
almost  absolute  despair  this  time — the  wine  tasted  good. 
Champagne  usually  does  taste  good  to  those  who  relish 
it.  Perhaps  it  stands  as  firmest  friend  and  kindest 
nurse  to  the  very  desperately  seasick,  but  its  second- 
best  play  of  its  magic  trick  probably  is  made  "the  next 
morning." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  43 

Crespin  drained  the  glass,  and  even  put  up  a  trem 
bling  hand  to  tilt  it  farther  and  longer  that  he  should 
miss  no  last  drop.  And  he  looked  around  to  see  where 
the  bottle  was. 

There  was  no  bottle  in  sight. 

"You've  had  it  all,  old  chap,"  Traherne  told  him, 
"a  pint  of  it.  Now  try  to  rest  a  bit." 

"Rest !"  Crespin  moaned. 

"Lie  perfectly  still.  That  will  help.  I  won't  be 
long." 

"You're  not  going  to  leave  me !" 

"Must,"  Traherne  told  him,  pulling  the  chick  a  little 
closer.  "Sorry,  but  must.  I've  something  to  see  to 
that  won't  keep.  I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can.  And 
I'll  tell  Abdul  what  to  do  for  you,  and  to  see  that  you're 
not  disturbed." 

"Traherne,  you  must  not  leave  me."  There's  never 
a  time  so  miserable  that  the  sound  and  sight  of  a 
friend — the  right  friend — cannot  ease  it. 

"Look  here,"  Traherne  said  with  his  hand  on  the 
other's  arm,  "I  must.  I  wouldn't,  if  any  one  else  could 
do  what  I've  got  to,  but  no  one  can.  I  must  attend 
to  it  myself,  and  I  must  attend  to  it  now.  Keep  quiet 
— that  will  help  you  most.  And  I'll  get  back  as  soon 
as  I  can." 

Crespin  called  weakly  after  him  as  he  was  leaving 
the  room. 

"I  suppose — my  wife — knows." 

Traherne  evaded,  as  doctors  sometimes  must. 

"She  knows  you  slept  here  last  night.  I  sent  her  a 
chit  when  we  came  in." 

"Came  in,  I  supporting  your  staggering  steps,  I  sup 
pose,"  Crespin  said,  with  the  sick  attempt  at  humor 
that  often  comes  with  the  stale  after-fumes. 


44  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"We  came  in  together,"  Traherne  said  affectionately. 

"O  Lord,"  Crespin  told  him,  "you're  the  real  stuff, 
Traherne !" 

"Of  course  I  am — to  you.  Now  I  am  off.  So 
long!" 

But  he  was  not  off  just  yet. 

"I  say,"  Crespin  pleaded  anxiously,  "can  I  have  an 
other  drink?" 

"Not  yet,"  Traherne  told  him.  "You  shall,  when  I 
get  back,  with  something  to  eat " 

"Don't !"  the  sick  man  groaned.  "Give  me  a  smoke 
then,  before  you  go,  and  for  God's  sake  don't  be  long." 

Traherne  found  him  the  cigarettes,  and  took  him  the 
matches. 

"Smoke  if  you  like,"  he  said,  "but  I  wouldn't  smoke 
yet,  if  I  were  you." 

Crespin  put  his  hand  out  for  a  cigarette,  but  even  his 
hand  was  sick,  and  fell  back  from  the  effort. 

Doctor  Traherne  put  a  cigarette  in  his  hand,  and 
struck  a  match  and  held  it.  But  Major  Crespin 
couldn't  smoke. 

Traherne  left  him  then,  closing  the  door  of  the 
darkened  room  with  careful  quiet. 

And  Antony  Crespin  was  alone  with  his  creditor. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

DOCTOR  TRAHERNE  was  persona  grata  at 
Colonel  Agnew's  bungalow,  if  any  one  was ;  and 
several  were.  Their  people  at  home  in  England  were 
neighbors  and  friends,  and  for  that  Agnew  would  have 
welcomed  him,  if  there  had  been  nothing  else.  But 
there  was  a  great  deal  else.  It  was  not  often  that 
Agnew  liked  a  civilian,  or  saw  anything  in  one  to  like. 
He  didn't  see  what  use  they  were  anyway.  The  world 
was  made  for  warfare,  scientific,  deliberated  warfare, 
he  had  no  doubt  whatever  of  that.  Most  especially  was 
it  made  for  the  British  Army,  and  above  all  for  his 
regiment.  He  was  a  staunch  old  Tory,  of  course — 
there  are  some  still,  and  more  than  a  few  of  them  are 
in  India — but  he  never  troubled  to  read  the  speeches  in 
the  House,  not  even  those  of  the  Lords,  unless  they 
directly  bore  on  His  Majesty's  Forces.  He  had  no  re 
spect  for  any  calling  but  his  own — and  almost  as  little 
intelligent  knowledge  as  respect.  He  had  gone  in  for 
fisticuffs  in  his  cradle,  and  though  his  schoolmasters 
had  not,  among  themselves,  pronounced  him  startlingly 
brainy,  none  of  them  denied  him  considerable  place  as 
a  tactician.  He  was  an  emphatic  churchman — far 
more  emphatic  than  devout — but  he  respected  the 
church  rather  than  its  officers :  he  had  no  respect  for 
any  profession  but  his  own.  And  this  fact  he  rarely 
concealed.  He  reverenced  his  King — but  most,  it  may 
be  suspected,  because  His  Majesty  was  the  Head  of 
the  Army.  Even  the  somewhat  civilian  adjuncts  of  the 
Service,  doctors  and  padres  and  such,  he  held  rather 

45 


46  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

coldly.  He  liked  most  women,  and  reverenced  them 
all.  But  he  had  no  doubt  that  God  had  made  them  to 
bear  soldiers,  and  to  be  loved  by  the  soldier- fathers  of 
soldiers,  and  he  pitied  acutely  any  woman  who  had  to 
make  do  with  the  caresses  of  less  than  a  soldier-man  or 
who  brought  forth  any  men  children  who  failed  to 
crawl  through  Sandhurst  or  Woolwich  exams,  and 
bolt  enthusiastically  into  the  fighting  forces.  He 
thought  more  of  a  private  than  he  did  of  a  Viceroy — 
and  said  so.  And  he'd  gladly  have  given  Kathleen  to 
that  blithering  young  jackass  Bob  Grant  rather  than  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  or  to  a  royal  bride 
groom  who  was  not  in  the  Service.  No  German  war 
lord  ever  thought  more  of  himself  than  Colonel  Agnew 
thought  of  the  British  Army. 

But  there  were  soldierly  qualities  of  mind  and  per 
son  in  Basil  Traherne  to  which  the  fine  old  specialist 
had  had  to  respond.  And  if  Doctor  Traherne  had  not 
served  with  the  Colors  (Agnew  simply  refused  to  con 
sider  Volunteers)  he  had  served  the  regiment  well.  He 
had  disinfected  and  healed  a  diseased  drain  under  the 
floor  of  the  canteen  when  Crossland  hadn't  even  sus 
pected  it,  he  had  fought  enteric  through  more  than  one 
epidemic,  and  had  turned  a  cholera  camp  into  a  re 
freshed  place  of  rest  and  frolic  as  innocuous  as  a  kin 
dergarten  suffering  placidly  a  slight  visitation  of  mild 
German  measles.  And  now  Doctor  Traherne  had  de 
clared  war  upon  malaria,  and  it  looked  as  if  that  enemy 
of  the  British  Army  in  the  East  was  going  to  be  de 
feated  at  last — defeated  by  the  batteries  of  the  English 
doctor's  knowledge,  patience  and  skill.  It  wasn't  in 
Agnew  to  steel  his  heart  or  shut  his  respect  and  cama 
raderie  against  the  man  who  was  doing  that,  even  if  he 
didn't  wear  the  uniform. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  47 

And  at  the  Colonel's  bungalow  Doctor  Traherne 
came  and  went  as  he  would ;  always  welcomed,  always 
regretfully  sped.  But  that  bungalow  door  was  prac 
tically  shut  in  his  face  this  morning. 

The  Colonel  Commander  Sahib  was  writing  his  Eng 
lish  chits ;  no  one  could  see  him.  And  when  the  khan- 
samah  had  said  it  he  deliberately,  though  obsequiously, 
barred  the  way.  Traherne  could  not  get  past  Ali 
Halim  without  knocking  him  down,  that  was  clear,  and 
Traherne  would  not  do  that  except  in  the  last  resort, 
for  Halim  was  old,  and  they  were  most  excellent 
friends.  And  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall — unlike  most 
of  its  ilk,  the  Colonel's  bungalow  had  a  hall — the 
physician  saw  an  orderly  waiting  outside  Agnew's  den. 
No  doubt  the  orderly  was  armed;  and  Traherne  was 
not. 

But  he  was  going  to  see  the  Colonel,  and  have  con 
siderable  speech  of  him  too,  before  the  English  mail 
went. 

How? 

He  looked  about  him  and  thought :  not  a  bad  brace 
of  trumps  to  play  when  in  such  doubt  of  means  as  his. 

"Right-o,  then,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "but  I'll  wait 
here  a  bit,  and  cool,  before  I  go.  I've  been  walking 
fast" — which  was  true — "and  I'm  confoundedly  hot 
and  tired" — which  was  not  true. 

Ali  Halim  salaamed,  and  Doctor  Traherne  sat  him 
self  down  in  a  very  beautiful  and  big  chair,  which 
Kathleen  Agnew  had  coveted  and  the  Colonel  paid  for, 
in  Lahore,  standing  now  beside  a  very  ugly  hall  table 
which  the  Colonel  had  admired  in  a  catalogue,  and  had 
had  sent  out  all  the  way  from  the  Tottenham  Court 
Road. 

How? 


48  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

A  gong,  a  disk  of  hammered  brass,  slung  in  a  frame 
of  carved  and  inlaid  camphor-wood,  which  Kathleen 
also  had  coveted  somewhere  and  with  the  usual  result, 
stood  beside  a  bowl  of  magnolia  buds  on  the  Totten 
ham  Court  table.  It  never  was  used.  Not  even  Kath 
leen  Agnew  dared  use  it.  For  the  master  of  the  bun 
galow  detested  noise,  except  bugle-calls,  regimental 
bands  and  drill  and  parade  orders,  and  the  mighty 
music  of  battle,  almost  as  much  as  he  despised  civil 
ians.  Even  the  clocks  in  his  bungalow  had  to  tick 
softly,  and  were  not  allowed  to  strike  above  a  whisper. 
No  bell  rang  for  meals  here,  and  certainly  no  gong 
was  struck.  "A  damned  impertinent  way  of  telling  a 
gentleman  his  food  was  ready — of  course  it  was  ready, 
when  it  was  the  precise  moment  at  which  it  should  be 
ready."  Meals  were  not  even  announced  under  Colo 
nel  Agnew's  rule.  You  went  in  to  a  second  on  time — 
and  the  meal  was  ready,  ready  then,  neither  before  nor 
after.  More  than  one  English  woman,  visiting  India, 
and  the  Agnews'  guest  for  a  day  or  a  meal,  wondered 
how  her  host  would  have  adjusted  himself  to  the  post 
war  servants  of  London.  Kathleen  could  have  told 
them  that  he  would  not  have  done  so,  but  that  in  all 
human  probability  they  would  have  adjusted  their  post 
war  selves  to  him — or,  if  they  didn't,  he'd  "cook  the 
stuff  himself." 

The  gong  was  not  for  use.  It  stood  on  the  table  in 
the  hall  because  Kathleen  liked  to  see  it  there.  And 
the  Colonel  and  father  didn't  care  a  brass  farthing 
who  saw  it,  or  where  they  saw  it,  so  long  as  no  one 
ever  hit  it.  And  no  one  ever  had  from  the  day  he  paid 
for  it  till  now. 

Doctor  Traherne  used  it  now. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  49 

He  picked  up  the  mallet,  and  whacked  that  gong  as 
if  he'd  suddenly  gone  gong-beating  mad. 

AH  Halim  clutched  at  him.  The  khansamah  almost 
knelt  at  his  feet,  and  tears  of  sheer  fright  brimmed 
in  the  old  native's  eyes.  Private  Grainger  stood  sol 
dierly  stock-still  on  guard,  waiting  outside  his  Colo 
nel's  door.  But  the  irreproachable  buttons  on  his  tunic 
shook,  his  neck  rippled  and  turned  purple  with  mirth. 
But  the  private  did  not  stir.  He  had  been  told  to  see 
that  no.  one  came  in  to  the  Commandant's  room;  he 
had  not  been  told  to  do  anything  else,  and  if  a  Bengal 
Tiger  and  the  Taj  Mahal  had  come  into  the  hall,  and 
begun  waltzing  together,  Private  Grainger  would  not 
have  stirred — but  not  a  white  ant  could  have  passed  by 
him  in  to  the  Colonel. 

But  the  Colonel  passed  by  him — violently. 

"What  the  hell !"  he  raged  as  he  wrenched  the  door 
open,  and  nearly  wrenched  it  off. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  Traherne  said  nicely,  lay 
ing  down  the  mallet.  "But  I  must  see  you.  And 
Halim  would  neither  let  me  go  in,  or  tell  you  I  was 
here." 

"Quite  right,"  was  the  gruff  reply.  "Come  back 
to-morrow." 

"I  must  see  you  now,"  Traherne  insisted. 

The  Colonel's  neck  grew  as  purple  as  the  private's. 

"  'Must'  be  damned !"  the  Colonel  spluttered.  "Go 
away.  And  don't  come  back  here — to-morrow  or 
ever!" 

Doctor  Traherne  went  tne  length  of  the  hall,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  older  man's  arm.  "It  is  posi 
tively  necessary,  sir,"  he  urged  quietly.  "I  must  speak 
to  you  now — and  alone." 


50  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Colonel  Agnew  made  a  sound,  a  pronounced  sound, 
but  it  was  quite  inarticulate. 

A  tear  rolled  down  to  the  old  khansamah's  white 
beard,  and  Private  Grainger  was  praying — praying 
that  he  wasn't  going  to  explode.  In  the  first  place,  he 
did  not  wish  to  explode,  and,  in  the  second  place,  he 
intensely  wished  to  live  to  get  back  to  the  canteen, 
and  tell  the  story.  It  ought  to  be  worth  several  pints 
of  Poona  best.  He  had  seen  "the  old  man  hot  in  the 
collar  before,"  but  never  as  mad  as  this. 

"What's  it  about?"  the  irate  Colonel  demanded. 
"You'll  have  to  wait,  I  tell  you !" 

"That's  just  what  I  can't  do,  sir,"  Doctor  Traherne 
assured  him,  "and  we  can't  discuss  it  here." 

"Discuss !    Discuss  be  blowed !"  the  Colonel  snorted. 

"And  I  can't  tell  you  here." 

Agnew  gave  the  physician's  face  a  shrewd,  search 
ing  glance. 

"Cholera  worse  at  Meean  Mir  ?"  he  said  a  trifle  more 
quietly.  "You're  not  going  off  there,  are  you?  We 
want  to  finish  those  hospital  plans,  you  know." 

"No — not  cholera  anywhere.  Let  us  go  into  your 
own  room,  sir " 

"You  go  sit  down  somewhere  else,  and  have  a  drink. 
I'll  see  you  after  I've  finished  a  dispatch — to  catch 
the  home  mail — if  it's  as  important  as  that,"  Agnew 
told  him. 

"I'm  sorry,  Colonel  Agnew,"  Traherne  said  respect 
fully,  "but  I  must  speak  to  you  before  you  send  any 
thing  to  the  out  post." 

The  old  soldier's  thick  white  eyebrows  gathered 
themselves  into  storm  clouds,  and  he  cleared  his  throat 
with  an  oath.  But  he  was  weakening. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  Si 

"You  seem  to  think  yourself  in  command,"  he  blus 
tered. 

"No,"  Traherne  denied,  "or  I'd  not  need  to  disturb 
you,  sir." 

"You'll  have  to  be -damned  quick,"  Agnew  said  sur 
lily  as  he  turned  back  to  his  room. 

"As  damned  quick  as  you  like,"  the  doctor  assented, 
following  him. 

Colonel  Agnew  threw  an  order  at  the  old  khansamah 
over  Traherne's  shoulder.  "Throw  that  bally  thing 
out  to  the  crows!"  he  commanded.  Halim  took  the 
gong  up  in  one  trembling  hand,  the  mallet  in  his  other. 
But  he  gathered  his  courage  to  say,  "The  Miss-Sahib 
think  very  great  deal  of  it,  sir." 

"You  heard  my  order!"  Colonel  Agnew  thundered. 
"Hide  the  damned  things,  or  give  them  to  one  of  your 
wives,  or  your  grandmother." 

"It  isn't  likely  to  happen  again,  sir,"  Traherne  said 
gently.  "I  was  desperate.  And  Miss  Agnew  will  be 
angry,  won't  she?  Scold  you,  perhaps." 

The  grizzled  mustache  twitched.  "It  won't  happen 
twice  again,"  Colonel  Agnew  promised  grimly.  "Here, 
you,  put  the  damned  thing  down  where  it  was — and 
get  about  your  business!" 

Ali  Halim  held  his  hands  up  to  Allah  in  gratitude 
as  the  Colonel's  door  closed  again,  and  Private 
Grainger  permitted  himself  a  broad  grin  and  a  wide 
chuckle. 

It  must  not  be  implied  that  Colonel  Agnew  swore 
more  than  most  men.  As  a  rule  he  did  not,  but  he 
saw  red  to-day,  had  seen  so  red  all  night  that  he  had 
not  slept  at  all.  Both  man  and  soldier  he  was  hide 
ously  upset — and  when  that  was  so  nothing  so  nearly 


52  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

relieved  him  as  a  good  splutter  of  oaths.  When  well- 
nigh  hysterical  with  anger  he  used  "damns"  as  hys 
terical  women  use  smelling-salts. 

"I  can't  give  you  so  much  as  five  minutes,"  he  said, 
as  he  seated  himself  at  his  writing-table,  and  Dr.  Tra- 
herne  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  it.  "No,"  looking 
at  his  watch.  "I'll  give  you  exactly  two.  Go  ahead." 

"It's  about  Crespin,"  Traherne  said  at  once. 

Agnew's  lips  stiffened  ominously.  "There  is  noth 
ing  to  be  said  about  Major  Crespin,"  he  interposed 
sharply.  "You  might  have  spared  your  legs,  and  my 
time." 

"I've  come  to  ask  you  to  give  him  one  more  chance, 
sir,"  Traherne  persisted. 

"No !"  the  Colonel  blurted. 

"I  speak  as  his  physician,"  the  other  man  said. 

"Speak  as  his  grandmother,  for  all  I  care — but 
speak  somewhere  else.  I  have  definitely  decided  what 
to  do  about  Major  Crespin,  and  I  wish  to  catch  the  post. 
I  intend  to  catch  it,"  and  the  Colonel  took  up  his  pen 
significantly,  and  pulled  towards  him  an  unfinished  let 
ter  that  the  gong  in  the  hall  had  interrupted. 

"You  promised  me  two  minutes,"  Traherne  reminded 
him. 

"Then  I'll  give  them  to  you,"  the  soldier  snapped, 
"but  I  will  not  hear  one  word  about  Crespin." 

"He  can't  help  it,  sir,  it  is  disease." 

"All  the  more  reason  to  boot  him  out  of  the  service. 
A  soldier  can  help  doing  any  damned  thing  that  is  un- 
soldierly.  If  he  can't — he's  no  soldier." 

"He  can't  help  it — alone.  I  want  you  to  let  me  help 
him  to  help  it.  I  want  you  to  give  him  a  chance,  and 
to  give  me  a  chance.  I  may  fail :  let  me  try  though. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  53 

There  is  a  great  deal  that  is  fine  in  Tony  Crespin." 

"Don't  you  suppose  I  know  that?"  the  other 
growled.  "I'm  his  colonel !" 

"And  because  you  are,  sir,  you  will  help  me  to  help 
him/' 

"I  wish  to  God  I  could,"  Agnew  groaned.  "But 
he's  made  that  impossible  this  time.  Don't  say  any 
more,  Traherne.  I  know  what  you  want.  You  want 
me — heaven  knows  what's  it  to  you — to  let  him  send  in 
his  papers.  It  can't  be  done.  I  have  my  duty  to  do. 
I  respect  my  commission,  and  the  uniform  I've  the 
honor  to  wear,  if  that  poor  devil  doesn't.  And  Major 
Crespin  is  going  to  be  dismissed  from  the  service.  He 
must." 

"Let  him  send  in  his  papers?"  Traherne  ignored 
the  worse  that  had  followed.  "I  want  more  than  that, 
sir!" 

"Oh — you  do,  do  you  ?"  Agnew  growled. 

"Very  much  more,  sir.     I  want  you  to  let  it  pass." 

The  Colonel  threw  down  his  pen,  and  sank  back  in 
his  chair,  speechless. 

Traherne  pressed  on.  "If  he  has  to  leave  the  Army, 
his  case  will  be  hopeless." 

Agnew  found  his  voice.  "The  Service  will  be  hope 
less,  if  we  officer  it  with  drunkards." 

"It  is  not  quite  hopeless,  I  think — and  I'll  be  on  the 
job  for  all  I'm  worth,  if  you'll  let  me  have  it  my  way, 
sir.  Let  him  stay  on  with  you.  Give  him  leave — not 
too  long,  and  I'll  take  him  off  after  game  or  butter 
flies,  or  any  old  thing.  I'll  make  him  come.  Or,  if 
he  won't  for  me,  he  will  for  you!"  Agnew  looked 
down,  his  eyelids  blinked.  "And  bring  him  back  with 
the  stuff  out  of  his  blood.  And  when  I  have,  I'll  stick 


54  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

to  him  like  a  leech,  and  a  brother  and  a  doctor.  I  want 
to  cure  him.  I  believe  that  I  may  be  able  to  do  it — 
with  your  help,  sir." 

"I'm  no  doctor!" 

"I'm  not  so  sure,  sir,"  Traherne  replied  with  a  quiet 
smile.  "I've  seen  you  in  cholera  camp,  remember. 
And  I've  a  theory  that  every  great  soldier  is  a  pretty 
fine  sort  of  physician  as  well." 

"Cut  the  blarney,"  Agnew  snapped — but  he  was 
pleased.  "Why  are  you  so  set  on  it,  man  ?  It  wouldn't 
be  a  pleasant  job.  Stick  to  malaria,  there's  more  in  it." 

"I'll  stick  to  both,"  Traherne  replied. 

"But  why  in  thunder  do  you  want  to  do  it  ?  That's 
what  I  want  to  know.  No — no — I  don't,"  the  old  man 
had  suddenly  flushed  like  a  girl,  " — didn't  mean  that. 
None  of  my  business." 

Traherne  smiled  again.  "It  isn't  for  Mrs.  Crespin 
that  I  want  to  do  it,  Colonel,"  he  said  simply;  "not  half 
so  much  for  her  as  for  him." 

To  cover  his  confusion,  Agnew  looked  at  his  watch. 
When  he  had  he  swore. 

"You've  made  me  miss  the  mail,"  he  said  hotly, 
"you've  tricked  me  into  it !  I'll  wire.  Do  as  well." 

"I  did  not  try  to  make  you  miss  the  mail,"  Dr.  Tra 
herne  said,  looking  full  in  the  other's  angry  eyes. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  Colonel  Agnew  said. 


CHAPTER  IX 

COLONEL  AGNEW  got  out  of  his  chair  heavily, 
and  spoke  to  the  man  outside  the  door.  "You 
needn't  wait,"  he  said. 

"Traherne,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  down  again,  "don't 
you  think  that  I  haven't  tried  to  help  Crespin.  I  have 
again  and  again.  I've  tried  all  I  knew.  We  all  have. 
It  breaks  my  heart  to  have  one  of  my  boys  go  wrong. 
My  men  are  my  sons — I've  only  Kathleen,  you  know 
— the  regiment's  my  sons.  When  Tony  Crespin  came 
out  to  us,  he  was  only  a  boy.  I  fathered  him,  and,  by 
God,  I  mothered  him  too.  I  never  had  a  likelier  sub 
altern — until "  Colonel  Agnew  broke  off  abruptly 

and  sat  drumming  wretchedly  on  the  table. 

"He  did  well  in  the  War,  I've  heard,"  Traherne  re 
marked,  both  to  give  the  other  time  and  to  make  a 
point  for  Crespin. 

"He  did  damned  well  in  the  War,"  Agnew  said 
sharply.  "And  the  War  pretty  well  broke  his  heart. 
It  did  mine!  We  stuck  here,  sucking  sugar-cane  and 
ghee,  with  the  greatest  war  in  history  going  on  over 
there — and  pretty  nearly  going  to  blazes,  and  every 
fool  regiment  in  the  British  army  in  the  beautiful 
thick  of  it — some  of  'em  not  fit  to  rub  up  our  buttons 
or  learn  the  goose-step!  Damn  it — but  I  don't  want 
to  talk  about  it." 

"Some  one  had  to  stay  here,  I  suppose,"  Traherne 
said  conciliatingly. 

"Who  the  hell  said  they  didn't?  But  it  needn't  have 
been  the  best  regiment  in  the  British  Army,  need  it?" 

55 


56  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Agnew  blazed.  "Yes,  yes, — poor  Crespin  did  his 
mothers'-meeting,  curate-to-tea  bit,  and  he  did  it  well. 
Wireless!  Wireless — do-re-me- fa-sol !  for  a  full- 
blooded  man  who  aches  and  itches,  and  curses  his  guts 

out  to  be  in  at  the  fun Oh,  well "  he  pushed 

the  cigars  towards  Traherne,  and  took  one  himself. 
"May  as  well,"  he  said  sadly  as  he  struck  a  match.  "I 
need  something,  and  it's  too  early  for  pegs,  and  now 
I've  let  the  mail  slip,  half  an  hour  won't  matter."  Dr. 
Traherne  wondered  ruefully  how  much  it  was  matter 
ing  to  Tony  Crespin ! — but  he  lit  his  cigar.  He  was  up 
against  the  most  difficult  thing  he'd  ever  tackled,  and  he 
knew  it.  He  must  not  push  Agnew  too  hard,  he  must 
bide  Agnew's  time,  and  wear  his  determination  out 
gently — if  he  could  wear  it  out.  "Yes,  he  did  well  in 
the  War.  What  he  don't  know  about  wireless  no  one 
does.  But,  Lord,  how  he  felt  it — not  going  over  there. 
He  cried  about  it,  talking  to  me  about  it  one  day — 
when  he  was  half  sprung,  poor  lad — the  only  time  I 
saw  him  much  the  worse  for  it  while  the  War  was  on. 
Traherne,"  the  old  soldier  leaned  over  the  table,  and 
whispered,  "I  cried !  with  the  rage  and  shame  and  home 
sickness  for  it  all — I  stuck  here  nursing  sweepers  to 
keep  'em  'loyal',  I  cried, — and  I  wasn't  drunk." 

The  physician  understood — and  honored.  But  he 
couldn't  think  what  to  say. 

"You  did  get  to  the  front!"  the  old  soldier  said 
enviously. 

"Pretty  well,"  Traherne  admitted.  "There  was 
plenty  for  doctors  to  do  there." 

"Doctors  and  surgeons,"  Colonel  Agnew  amended. 

"And  surgeons,"  Traherne  said  gravely. 

They  smoked  in  silence  for  a  moment  or  two. 

Agnew  spoke  first.     "I  did  all  I  could  for  Crespin, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  57 

as  long  as  I  could.  Did  it  because  he  was  one  of  ours, 
because  there  was  a  good  officer  in  him  once,  if  ever 
I  saw  one,  because  of  his  people — mine  know  some  of 
them  at  home — and  because  of  his  wife.  Lord,  Tra- 
herne,  I  could  forgive  him  all  the  rest — all  but  last  night 
— but  not  how  he's  treated  his  wife!" 

"He  is  very  fond  of  her,"  Traherne  interposed. 

"Tell  that  to  the  marines !"  the  Colonel  growled. 

"He  is,  sir,"  the  other  insisted. 

"Taken  a  rotten  way  of  showing  it,"  Agnew 
grunted. 

"Very  rotten,"  Dr.  Traherne  agreed  sadly. 

"A  sweeter  woman  never  breathed.  As  nice  a 
woman,  and  as  good  a  woman  too,  as  God  ever 
made!" 

"She  is  all  that,"  Basil  Traherne  said  softly. 

"I  wish  you'd  seen  her  when  she  first  came  to  tts." 

"I  can  imagine  her." 

"We  lost  our  heads  and  our  hearts  to  her.  There 
wasn't  a  man  in  the  regiment  that  didn't  love  her,  and 
rejoice  in  her — and,  by  Jove!  there  wasn't  a  woman 
that  disliked  her.  Not  one !  I've  been  here  some  time, 
an'  I  never  knew  that  to  happen  before.  I  never  ex 
pect  to  see  it  happen  again.  She  was  a  perfectly  happy, 
fearless,  confident  girl.  Well — she's  fearless  now! 
But  where  are  her  happiness  and  her  confidence? 
Whiskey-poisoned,  and  wanton-killed.  I've  seen  men 
die  in  battle — pretty  badly  mangled  some  of  them — 
but  a  man  can  ask  for  nothing  better  than  to  die  in 
battle!  I've  seen  men  hanged,  I've  seen  men  shaken 
and  twisted  and  maddened  by  plague,  and  cholera. 
I've  seen  a  white  man  eaten  off  by  leprosy,  a  joint  at 
a  time,  till  there  wasn't  much  left  of  him  but  his  mid 
dle.  But  the  damnedest  thing  I've  ever  seen  was  the 


58  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

hardening  of  Lucilla  Crespin — to  watch  her  eyes  stif 
fen,  an'  that  low,  sweet  voice  of  hers,  to  feel  her  grow 
cold.  It  was  bad  enough  when  a  look  of  terror  began 
to  creep  into  her  eyes — it  was  a  thousand  times  worse 
when  it  changed,  and  settled  to  a  frozen,  still  despair. 
And  her  smile !  She  never  smiled  much  in  the  old 
days,  but  it  was  worth  seeing  when  she  did.  She 
laughed  oftener  than  she  smiled.  Her  laugh,  was  a 
thing  to  hear,  but  it  was  her  smile  that  fetched  you — a 
dimple,  and  then  a  light!  By  Jove!  You've  seen 
Kathleen  smile?"  Traherne  nodded.  "Much  the  same 
thing.  Sweet  and  glad,  every  bit  of  it!  Now,  that 
woman's  smile  is  the  bitterest,  saddest  thing  I  know." 

"Not  when  she  smiles  at  her  children!" 

"Gad,  no!"  the  Colonel  admitted.  "The  young 
motherhood  of  her  has  not  been  spoiled  the  least,  thank 
God!" 

"You  can't  spoil  such  motherhood,"  the  doctor  as 
serted. 

"Yes,  you  can,"  Agnew  retorted.  "I've  seen  it  done 
— in  India.  Well,  she  never  gave  a  sign,  not  once,  that 
I  ever  saw  or  heard  of,  through  it  all.  She  just  froze 
— died,  as  it  were,  and  lived  on  dead.  I  wonder  how 
much  of  it  all  you  know,  Traherne,  or  have  heard?" 
he  broke  off. 

"I've  heard  very  little.  I've  avoided  hearing,  as  much 
as  I  could.  But  I  can  read  between  the  lines  a  bit — it 
is  one  of  the  tricks  of  my  trade,  you  know." 

"Well,  you're  going  to  hear  it  now,  man,  what  I 
know  of  it — and  I  know  enough  to  turn  an  Eskimo 
sick.  And  when  you've  heard,  I  don't  think  you'll  ask 
me  to  be  easy  on  Major  Crespin." 

Dr.  Traherne  smoked  on  in  silence. 

"It  seems  Crespin  took  too  much  once  or  twice  when 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  59 

he  was  a  subaltern,  but  only  once  or  twice,  and  not  so 
very  much,  and  it  never  got  to  me.  Always  liked  the 
stuff,  I  suppose.  Crossland  had  suspicions  of  that 
from  the  first — so  I  learned  later.  Soon  after  he  got 
his  company  Crespin  went  home  on  long  leave,  and 
when  he  came  back  he  brought  his  wife  with  him.  I'm 
always  a  bit  anxious  when  one  of  my  youngsters  does 
that.  Tony  Crespin  must  have  been  thirty-one  or  -two 
then.  I'm  always  anxious  till  I  see  how  it  works.  Mar 
riage  is  a  damned  queer  thing — the  queerest  I  know. 
Sometimes  it  sinks;  sometimes  it  smashes;  sometimes 
it  jogs  on  in  a  dull  dog-trot;  sometimes  it  glides  on 
oil.  That  was  what  their  marriage  did  at  first 
Couldn't  ask  for  a  better  husband,  and  no  woman  in  her 
senses  would  ask  for  a  more  devoted.  No  nonsense 
about  it — slops  are  loathsome,  of  course — but  just 
downright  happiness  and  the  very  best  sort  of  good- 
understanding.  Then" — the  old  soldier's  mouth  hard 
ened — "I'm  damned  if  he  didn't  begin  to  tilt  it  up — 
and  then  went  right  off  the  deep  end  in  B.  and  S.,  and 
fizz  and  Johnnie  Walker.  She  was  the  last  to  know  it, 
of  course.  Crossland  got  the  wind  up  first  it  seems — 
and  did  his  best.  I  saw  it,  when  no  old  fool  could  help 
seeing  it — and  I  did  my  damnedest.  What  I  haven't 
said  to  Tony  Crespin  on  the  subject  wouldn't  be  of 
much  use  in  a  temperance  campaign.  Try!  Oh,  we 
tried.  Stand  by  him  ?  We  stood  by  him.  He  pulled 
up,  then  he  slid  back.  Not  once,  not  twice — again  and 
again.  We  were  with  her,  my  wife  and  I,  when  the 
cable  came  saying  her  father  had  died.  It  ought  to  be 
against  the  law  for  such  news  to  be  sent  by  cable. 
I'd  make  it  a  criminal  offense,  if  I  could.  She  didn't 
say  a  word — it  isn't  her  way — just  read  the  blamed 
thing  over  two  or  three  times,  then  laid  it  down  on  the 


60  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

tea-tray,  and  pushed  the  cups  and  saucers  about  a  bit. 
But  her  face!  I  shall  not  forget  her  face.  Mary,  at 
the  look  of  that  girl's  face,  just  took  up  that  blasted 
cable  and  read  it,  and  then  she  handed  it  to  me,  and  I 
read  it.  Mary  didn't  ask  any  permission,  or  make  any 
apology,  and  no  more  did  I ;  for  I  knew  whatever  Mrs. 
Agnew  had  done  was  the  thing  to  do — and  I  don't 
think  she'd  have  heard  us,  no  matter  what  we'd  said, 
or  how  loud.  We  didn't  know  what  to  do.  It  wasn't 
often  my  wife  didn't  know  what  to  do — but  she  owned, 
on  the  way  home,  that  she  was  properly  stumped  that 
time.  We  didn't  know  what  to  do.  We  knew  she  didn't 
want  us  to  stay,  didn't  want  any  one  near  her,  and  we 
couldn't  bear  to  leave  her.  She  was  delicate  then. 
Mary  said  something  to  her — don't  remember  what.  I 
was  tongue-tied,  I  can  tell  you.  She  didn't  seem  to 
hear  my  wife.  But  presently  she  said,  'Where  is 
Tony?  Please  find  him  for  me.  I  want  Tony.'  And 
just  as  she'd  said  it,  Crespin  lurched  in — lurched.  Not 
half-seas  over,  but  drunk!  So  drunk — he  reeked — 
and  when  he  saw  me  he  giggled.  And  that  was  how  s1  ie 
learned  it." 

Colonel  Agnew  pushed  his  chair  back  angrily,  and 
went  to  the  window. 

Kathleen  Agnew's  garden  was  the  show  place  of 
Dehra  Dun.  Even  for  India  it  was  almost  surprisingly 
beautiful.  How  she'd  contrived  it  in  her  few  years  only 
she  and  the  mahlis  knew.  Colonel  Agnew  said  all  his 
pay  went  to  pay  the  mahlis.  Except  a  clump  of  neam 
chameli,  keeping  their  stately  beauty  apart  in  a  corner, 
and  drenching  the  place  for  many  yards  with  the  scent 
of  their  lovely  cream  tube-shaped  blossoms,  none  of 
the  giant  trees  of  India  were  there.  But  sweeter  far, 
though  desperately  heavy,  was  the  odor  of  the  love- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  61 

sacred  champa.  A  grove  of  mock-oranges  (we  miscall 
them  syringa)  always  reminded  Lucilla  Crespin  of  her 
father's  garden  in  Surrey — but  the  emerald,  ruby- 
billed,  blue-tailed,  pink-throated  parrots  who  kept 
house  in  them  did  not.  There  was  a  long  avenue  of 
roses — all  the  colors,  all  the  sweetnesses  of  roses. 
There  was  a  wilderness  of  roses,  jungles  of  roses. 
There  was  green  sward  velvet — more  English-seeming 
than  Indian.  Stephanotis  bloomed  pink  beneath  the 
delicate  bamboos,  begonias  edged  the  once  sacred  tank 
where  the  lotus  still  floated.  Maidenhair  ferns  grew 
everywhere,  plants  of  it,  thickets  and  walls  of  it.  Yel 
low  honeysuckles  and  yellower  jasmine  looked  lemon- 
pale  beside  the  venusta's  flaming  orange.  Peacocks 
strutted  and  fanned  between  pink  camellias  and  velvet 
iris,  and  wise-faced  monkeys  flung  and  chattered 
among  the  oleanders.  And  the  lithe  bronze  mahlis, 
naked  but  for  brown  loin-cloths,  crooned  as  they 
worked  and  pottered. 

But  Colonel  Agnew,  gazing  at  it  all,  saw  none  of  it. 
Presently  he  said,  without  turning  even  his  head,  "And 
her  baby — the  girl — was  born  that  night." 

Basil  Traherne  neither  moved  nor  spoke. 

Agnew  pitched  his  cigar  out  on  the  jasmine,  came 
back  to  his  chair,  and  lit  another.  "She  forgave  him, 
of  course,  or  I  suppose  she  did.  I  tell  you,  all  along 
she  never  has  said  a  word  nor  given  a  sign.  I've  often 
.wondered  if  she  ever  has  even  to  him.  He  kept 
straight  for  a  bit  after  that.  And,  if  ever  a  man  was 
proud  of  a  child,  Crespin  was  proud  of  tfrat  baby. 
The  boys  used  to  chaff  him,  and  ask  if  he  wouldn't 
like  to  bring  it  on  to  parade.  And  he'd  say,  he  would." 

Traherne  nodded. 

"He  kept  straight,  but  he  didn't  keep  on  keeping 


62  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

straight.  Every  once  and  again,  he'd  break  out — 
and,  whenever  he  did,  Crossland  did  his  prettiest,  and  I 
did  my  damnedest." 

Dr.  Traherne  smiled  slightly,  but  Colonel  A'gnew 
did  not  see  it — perhaps  that  was  as  well. 

"I  don't  say  he  went  the  whole  hog  often.  He  didn't. 
But  he  sipped  and  sipped — a  damned  sight  more  than 
was  good  for  him — or  the  rest  of  us — or  for  her.  I've 
told  you  how  that  poor  child  learned  she'd  married  a 
downright  hard  boozer.  The  way  she  found  out  about 
women  wasn't  much  pleasanter." 

"I'd  rather "  Traherne  began. 

The  Colonel  ignored  it.  "It  was  in  Pindi.  He  had 
a  month's  leave,  and  for  some  reason — I  forget,  if  I 
knew — they  spent  it,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  at  Pindi 
• — had  a  bungalow  there.  There  was  a  show  there  just 
then,  as  if  Pindi  was  not  hot  and  uncomfortable  enough 
without  theater-going.  Some  of  the  troupe  put  up  at 
the  Dak  Bungalow — among  them  a  Jezebel  they  called 
'the  leading  lady.'  You've  heard  of  Terese  Carter?" 

"No." 

"Thought  every  one  had.  Hadn't  much  reputation 
as  an  actress,  but  more  than  enough  as  a — woman. 
But  I  ought  not  to  say  that — probably  not  her  fault — 
sorry  I  did.  One  morning,  early,  Mrs.  Crespin  had 
been  making  her  own  bazaar,  and  she  went  into  the  Dak 
to  ask  about  a  dhursi's  character.  She  got  Crespin's 
instead.  The  rooms  open  off  of  the  dining-room; 
Terese  Carter,  in  a  thin  sort  of  thing,  with  all  her  red 
hair  loose  about  her,  and  her  door  pretty  well  open, 
the  cotton  curtain  drawn  back — I  suppose  for  the  cool, 
not  that  there  ever  is  any  at  Pindi — was  sprawled  on 
her  bed,  and  Crespin  was  sitting— half  -sitting  on  it — 
on  the  bed,  with  a  lot  of  the  woman's  red  hair  held  up 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  63 

to  his  face,  and  a  sick-sheep  look  in  his  damned  eyes. 
Mrs.  Crespin  stood  stock-still,  Mrs.  Lawson  said — 
Dick  Lawson's  wife  was  with  her,  and  saw  it  all, 
they'd  been  making  bazaar  together — and  watched 
them,  then  just  moved  on,  and  did  her  errand.  She 
never  said  a  word  to  Mrs.  Lawson,  or  let  her  say  one 
word  to  her — and  nobody  knew  what  she  said  to  Cres 
pin  afterwards — if  she  did.  I  know  what  pattern  most 
men  are  cut,  Traherne ;  wouldn't  be  much  of  a  C.O.  if 
I  didn't,  and  you  do  too,  or  you're  not  much  of  a  doc 
tor.  But,  damn  it  all,  I'd  like  to  have  the  hanging  of 
every  man  that  plays  that  low-down  trick  on  a  good 
wife.  And  when  a  scoundrel  that  does,  lets  her  find 
him  out,  in  my  opinion,  that  second  villainy  is  worse 
than  the  other,  by  God." 

"And  in  mine,"  the  physician  said. 

"At  Sumnee  there  never  had  been  any  hint  of  that 
sort  of  thing  in  Crespin.  Couldn't  be.  Not  a  white 
woman  in  Sumnee,  you  know,  except  those  in  his  own 
regiment — till  the  Dorsets  came.  Well,  Miss  Terese 
Carter  wasn't  the  last.  There  have  been  others  since — 
more  or  less  flagrant.  One,  at  least,  a  Service  woman. 
The  Crespins  came  back  from  Rawal  Pindi  a  few  days 
after  that — on  what  terms  I  never  knew.  But  we  could 
see  the  breach  widen — and  could  only  stand  by,  and 
watch  it  widen,  and  the  misery  grow  and  grow  stonier 
in  her  face.  Now,  Dr.  Traherne,  what  have  you  got 
to  say  for  Major  Crespin?"  The  Colonel  brought  his 
clenched  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  blow  that  sounded 
like  an  enraged  demand  for  arnica.  "Rather  a  black, 
rotten  story,  eh  ?" 


CHAPTER  X 

"TTERY— rotten,"  Traherne  replied,  "and  sad." 
»      "Got  anything  more  to  say  for  Major  Crespin?" 

"Yes.  This.  When  I  was  a  boy  at  Harrow,  one  of 
the  small  boys,  about  the  youngest  there,  Antony  Cres 
pin  was  my  fag-master.  He  was  jolly  decent  to  me. 
He  wasn't  much  at  schools,  but  every  one  liked  him, 
masters  as  well  as  boys.  He  was  prime  at  sports ;  and 
at  everything  he  had  the  pluck  of  a  dozen,  and  he  was 
absolutely  straight,  and  scrupulously  fair  always.  But 
he  always  had  a  hunted  look  in  his  eyes.  I  saw  it  then, 
shaver  though  I  was,  without  understanding  it  in  the 
least.  I  understand  it  now.  And  I  knew — I  don't 
know  how  I  knew,  but  I  did — that  Crespin  was  un 
happy." 

Colonel  Agnew  hitched  impatiently  in  his  chair. 
All  this  did  not  interest  him  in  the  remotest.  But  he 
did  not  interrupt.  Traherne  had  listened  to  his  story, 
he'd  listen  to  Traherne's.  Colonel  Agnew  too  was 
scrupulously  fair  always.  But  he  scowled,  and  his 
white  eyebrows  met  in  their  ominous  beetling. 

"And  I  knew  one  other  thing  about  him.  He  almost 
never  spoke  of  his  people.  But  I  knew,  don't  know 
how  again,  that  he  worshiped  his  mother,  and  very 
much  less  than  worshiped  his  father.  He  had  a  photo 
of  Mrs.  Crespin — his  mother — over  his  bed.  I  believe 
he  said  his  prayers  to  that  picture,  and,  if  he  didn't,  he 
said  them  about  it.  It  was  the  photograph  of  a  very 
beautiful  woman,  "Mother" — only  that — written  across 
one  corner.  He  used  to  write  to  her  all  the  time — 

64 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  65 

oftener  than  any  other  boy  wrote  to  any  one.  I  used 
to  post  his  letters  often — mostly  they  were  not  thin 
ones — not  those  to  his  mother,  and  I  didn't  often  have 
any  others  to  post  for  him.  She  came  to  see  him  two 
or  three  times  while  he  and  I  were  both  there — he  left 
long  before  I  did.  He  was  older  than  I,  and  going  into 
the  Army,  of  course — they  never  stay  at  public  school 
long,  as  you  know.  I  used  to  think  he  half  lived  for 
those  visits.  His  joy  when  he  knew  that  she  was  com 
ing,  and  his  pride  and  devotion  when  she  did  come — I 
remember  it !  She  was  as  beautiful  as  her  picture,  sir — 
and  she  seemed  as  fond  and  proud  of  him  as  he  was 
of  her.  He  took  me  home  with  him  for  a  week-end 
once.  His  people's  place  was  not  very  far.  They  gave 
me  a  ripping  time — the  Saturday.  We  got  there  early 
Saturday  morning.  I  didn't  take  to  Mr.  Crespin — 
couldn't  have  said  why  not :  he  was  decent  to  me.  But 
I  thought  there  was  an  undertone  of  boorishness  in  the 
way  he  spoke  to  his  wife,  a  mean  look  in  his  eyes — 
nothing  much,  couldn't  put  my  finger  on  it — I  was 
pretty  much  of  a  kid — but  I  seemed  to  get  it.  And 
I  felt  sure  that  Tony  and  his  mother  were  happier  to 
gether  when  Mr.  Crespin  was  not  there.  And  the  half- 
impression  I'd  got  at  Harrow  that  Tony  had  no  special 
love  for  his  father  was  considerably  deepened,  and  I 
gathered  too — couldn't  have  said  how,  and  couldn't 
now — that  the  boy  did  not  respect  the  man.  Sunday 
was  all  right — till  dinner.  Mrs.  Crespin  looked  queer 
when  she  came  into  the  drawing-room,  her  hair  was 
beautifully  done,  I  remember,  kid  as  I  was,  wondering 
how  long  it  had  taken  her  maid  to  do  it,  and  her  gown 
was  A- 1,  and  she  smelled  of  some  delicious  scent  as  she 
moved — almost  too  much  of  it,  and  I  thought  she  had 
too  much  powder  on,  and  oughtn't  to  have  used  any, 


66  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

her  skin  was  so  beautiful — just  like  milk,  I'd  noticed, 
out  in  the  sunshine  when  we'd  played  tennis.  By  the 
time  we'd  finished  fish  her  face  was  red,  and  Tony's 
was  the  color  of  chalk.  He  talked,  how  he  talked,  poor 
devil ! — and  I  can  see  the  love  in  his  eyes  now  when  he 
looked  at  his  mother.  Mr.  Crespin  scarcely  spoke,  but 
made  a  capital  meal,  and  watched  his  wife  with  a  bad 
smile  on  his  face  all  the  time.  Before  the  poultry  was 
served,  I  understood — couldn't  help  it.  Her  voice  was 
thick,  her  hand  unsteady,  and  her  face  flamed.  She 
didn't  eat  much,  but  she  drank — I  know  now  that  she 
couldn't  help  it — and  her  husband  twice  reminded  the 
butler  to  fill  her  glass!  When  she  pushed  back  her 
chair,  and  rose  to  leave  us,  she  lurched.  Tony  drew 
his  mother's  arm  through  his,  and  led  her  from  the 
room  as  if  she  had  been  a  queen !  He  didn't  come  back 
till  very  late.  When  he  did,  he  didn't  stay  long.  And 
he  didn't  sleep  that  night,  as  he  had  the  night  before, 
in  the  room  I  did.  We  left  at  an  unearthly  hour  on 
Monday — had  to,  of  course — and  I  didn't  see  Mrs. 
Crespin  to  say  good-by." 

Colonel  Agnew  cleared  his  throat.  "Do  you  mean?" 
he  began.  "Do  you  believe " 

"I  believe,  sir,  that  Antony  Crespin's  mother  was  a 
nice  woman  who  needed  help  she  didn't  get,  or  a  chance 
and  peace  to  help  herself  in,  as  I  believe  that  Major 
Crespin  needs  help  that  I  can  perhaps  give  him  and 
help  him  to  help  himself — which  is  the  only  help  that 
amounts  to  anything  in  such  cases " 

"I  tell  you "  Agnew  broke  in  hotly. 

But  the  physician  in  his  own  turn  too  interrupted. 
"That  you  and  Crossland  have  given  him  every  possi 
ble  chance,  done  your  best,  and  done  it  generously?  I 
am  sure  of  that,  sir.  But  the  thing  is  very  difficult.  No 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  67 

ailment,  except  insanity,  is  less  understood,  or  more 
persistently  bungled — by  doctors,  the  best  of  them," 
he  added  quickly. 

The  Colonel  smiled  grimly.  "But  you  wouldn't  bun 
gle  it?" 

"God  knows,"  Dr.  Traherne  said  humbly.  "I'd  try 
not." 

"Isn't  it  hopeless  always?" 

"Not  always.  Even  insanity  is  healed,  fairly  often, 
in  spite  of  criminally  wrong  treatment." 

"You  think  he  inherited  it?" 

"I  think  he  inherited  a  tendency,  perhaps,  or — more 
probably  a  possibility.  I  do  not  believe  that  it  is  con 
genital.  I  do  not  for  one  moment  believe  that  that 
poor  lady  drank  until  something  drove  her  to  it — after 
her  marriage,  and  probably  after  her  boy's  birth.  And 
I  think  it  very  likely  that  Tony  Crespin  took  his  first 
drink  too  much  when  he  heard  of  his  mother's  death." 

"And  the  women?  Inherited  from  the  other  side,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"I  can't  say,  sir.  Alcohol  itself  fathers  that  lapse 
very  often.  And  the  thing  itself  is  rather  too  common 
to  lay  it  overconfidently  at  any  one  father's  door." 

"Yes,"  Agnew  agreed  sadly.  "Did  he  say  any 
thing?" 

"Tony?  To  me,  about  what  had  happened  at  his 
home,  sir?  Not  one  word — on  the  way  back  to  Har 
row,  or  after.  But — I  saw  him  suffer — then  and  after. 
Once  a  lot  of  fellows  were  talking — were  talking  about 
the  thousand  and  one  things  that  boys  at  school  do — 
and  got  on  to  what  ought  to  be  forgiven,  and  what, 
if  anything,  ought  not — no  matter  how  repented  and  all 
that.  Crespin  did  not  join  in  and,  of  course,  I  didn't. 
I  was  fagging,  making  their  toast  and  so  on.  But 


68  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

after  they'd  gone,  he  said  to  me  that  there  was  one 
thing  he'd  kill  for.  And  when  I  said,  'What  ?'  he  said 
he'd  kill  any  one,  no  matter  who  it  was,  that  ever  said 
or  thought  a  rough  word  of  his  mother.  And  there 
was  murder  in  his  eyes,  sir.  I  thought  he  meant  it  as 
a  warning  to  me.  I  think  it  was.  He  needn't  have 
done  it.  I  took  an  oath  to  myself  that  Monday  morn 
ing  on  the  train,  going  back  to  school,  that  no  word  of 
it'd  ever  pass  me,  and  that  I'd  do  my  best  to  forget  it. 
No  word  ever  has  before,  and  I've  told  it  now  for  him." 

"Ever  see  her  again?"  Agnew  asked,  as  he  again 
marched  off  stiffly  to  the  open  window. 

"Twice,"  Traherne  told  him.  "She  came  to  Harrow 
twice  after  that  before  Tony  went  to  Sandhurst.  If 
Tony  had  treated  her  like  a  queen  on  her  other  visits, 
I  can't  describe  how  he  treated  her  those  two  times. 
I  couldn't  help  feeling  that  he  was  trying  to  apologize 
to  her — to  make  up  to  her  for  it.  Colonel  Agnew, 
Antony  Crespin  loved  his  mother  with  a  love  very  few 
women  ever  get — a  love  that  ought  to  make  up  to  a 
woman  for  almost  anything." 

Colonel  Agnew,  with  his  back  to  Traherne,  drew 
out  his  handkerchief,  and — sneezed. 


CHAPTER  XI 

DR.  TRAHERNE  waited  for  Agnew  to  speak. 
"I  almost  wish,"  the  older  man  said  slowly, 
after  a  time,  "that  his  wife  knew — what  you've  just 
told  me." 

Traherne  nodded.  "But  we  can't  tell  her,  sir.  And 
Major  Crespin  never  will.  And  probably  no  one  in 
India  knows  but  you  and  me  and  him — perhaps  no  one 
else  living  now,  knows  or  remembers.  But  his  Colonel 
knows  now,  sir,"  he  added  rising  and  going  to  the  man 
at  the  window. 

Agnew  swung  round  on  him.  "What  do  you  want 
me  to  do,  doctor?  What  the  blue  blazes  can  I  do? 
Guest  night!  Damn!" 

"I  ask  you  to  pass  it  over,  sir — this  once  more — 
to  give  Major  Crespin  a  goodish  long  leave — not 
too  long — and  leave  the  rest  to  me — let  me  try  out 
my  plan." 

"Two  generals — one  from  the  U.  S.  A.!"  Colonel 
Agnew  almost  bleated. 

"Yes — awkward,"  Traherne  admitted. 

"Damned  awkward,"  the  Colonel  said  curtly. 

"But  they'll  not  say  a  word,  sir.  They  were  eating 
your  salt.  Let  me  tackle  them.  General  Harland  is 
awkward,  I'll  admit.  I  wish  he  hadn't  been  there." 

"I  wish  it  hadn't  happened,"  the  Colonel  said  miser 
ably. 

"Yes!  But  General  Harland  is  not  in  command 
of  your  district,  sir.  You  can't  ask  him  to  wink  at 
your  not  reporting  it.  But  I  can.  I  think  I  can 

69 


70  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

get  him  to  ask  you  not  to  report  it.  And  you  are  in 
command  here,  sir." 

"You  think  you  can  do  a  lot,  don't  you?"  Agnew 
snorted. 

"I  can  speak  as  a  physician,  sir,"  Traherne  said  per 
suasively.  "And  the  General  is  no  end  of  a  good 
fellow — every  one  says  so.  And  then  I'll  tackle  the 
Bishop — " 

"Oh,  damn  the  Bishop !"  the  Colonel  said.  "No— 
I'll  consult  General  Harland  myself,  Traherne.  It's 
up  to  me.  I  don't  give  a  damn  which  of  us  tackles 
the  Bishop.  But  General  Tyler — our  American  guest 
— that's  what  hurts,  Traherne — that  an  officer  of  an 
other  service  saw — one  of  mine — what  General  Tyler 
saw  last  night!" 

"Yes,  I  know,  sir.  But  he  was  your  guest.  He's 
one  the  best  too.  It's  safe  forever  with  him." 

"Oh,  Lord,"  the  Colonel  chuckled  wretchedly,  "and 
America's  just  gone  dry!" 

"General  Tyler  hasn't  gone  particularly  dry,  sir," 
Dr.  Traherne  reminded  him.  "He  took  claret  at  din 
ner.  And  His  Majesty's  health  went  down  him  in 
fizz.  And  he  had  a  stiff  peg  with  me  at  two  o'clock 
this  morning." 

"Good  Lord,  Traherne!    Where?" 

"At  my  digs,  sir.  General  Tyler  and  I  took  Major 
Crespin  home — to  my  bungalow,  and  saw  to  him,  both 
of  us.  General  Tyler  was  no  end  sorry  about  it.  He 
was  sorry  for  you,  sir.  He  was  sorrier  for  Crespin. 
Said  so.  He's  all-wool-and-a-yard-wide — a  saying  of 
his  own  countrymen's,  sir." 

There  was  a  pause. 

Colonel  Agnew  went  back  to  the  writing-table,  and 
took  up  the  dispatch,  and  tore  it  into  very  small  bits 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  71 

before  he  threw  it  into  the  big  waste-paper  basket. 
Then  he  kicked  the  basket. 

"Boy!"  he  bellowed. 

"Topee,"  he  snapped  when  the  bearer  appeared. 
"You  go  prescribe  for  the  Bishop,  if  you  like,"  he 
said  to  Traherne.  "I'm  off  to  eat  humble  pie  to  the 
General — General  Harland.  After  tiffin,  I'll  call  on 
General  Tyler,  and  ask  him  to  come  to  the  Club  and 
lick  me  at  poker." 

"He  will,  sir,"  Traherne  laughed. 

"By  God,  he  shall,"  Colonel  Agnew  said. 

And  a  few  days  later  Traherne  and  Crespm  went 
off  after  game. 

Sometimes  Traherne  thought  he  was  winning,  or, 
as  he  put  it,  that  Crespin  was.  At  others  he  thought 
he  was  losing. 

Crespin  came  back  to  his  regiment,  and  back  to  old 
failures  and  stumbles  sometimes.  But  neither  man 
ever  quite  gave  it  up.  Colonel  Agnew  looked  the 
other  way  more  than  once.  He  grumbled  and  threat 
ened  a  great  deal.  And  he  prayed — but  that  he  kept 
strictly  to  himself. 

Lucilla  Crespin  grew  whiter  and  colder.  Iris  and 
Ronald  grew  bonnier  and  chubbier — and  their  mother 
loved  them  more  and  more,  gay  and  tender  always 
with  them,  their  beloved  saint  and  tireless  playmate. 
And  Traherne,  as  he  watched  her  with  them,  had 
almost  more  in  his  heart,  and  his  strong  tingling  man's 
blood,  than  his  resolve  and  endurance  could  match. 
But  they  held.  He  often  wondered  if  Mrs.  Crespin 
knew  what  he  felt — guessed  it  at  all,  any  of  it — but  the 
woman,  if  she  did,  gave  no  sign. 

Crespin  recovered  and  lapsed — lapsed  and  recovered. 


72  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

And  the  regiment,  watching,  wondered  how  long  the 
"old  man"  was  going  to  put  up  with  it — and  so  did 
the  entire  station. 

And  the  Colonel  wondered  himself,  and  told  Dr. 
Traherne  so,  more  than  once.  And  always  the  physi 
cian  pleaded,  "A  little  longer,  sir !" 

"How  is  it  going  to  end?"  Agnew  demanded  one 
day. 

"Before  long,  in  one  of  two  ways,"  Traherne  said, 
"assuredly.  He  will  win  out  now,  or  he'll  die.  He  is 
very  much  better  of  his  failing.  But  his  nerves  are 
about  frazzled,  and  his  body  won't  stand  too  much 
more.  Let  him  keep  his  uniform,  sir.  I'll  see  that  he 
doesn't  openly  disgrace  it.  I  promise  you  that.  Let 
him  fit  it  once  more,  or  let  him  die  in  it.  That  will 
mean  a  great  deal  to  him.  Take  it  from  him,  and  I 
give  you  my  word  his  game  is  up." 

At  which  Colonel  Agnew  "damned"  Dr.  Traherne, 
and  yielded  to  him. 

Agnew,  too,  often  wondered  if  Mrs.  Crespin  knew 
what  Traherne  felt  towards  her.  The  Colonel  had 
no  doubt. 

Whether  Mrs.  Crespin  knew  all,  little  or  nothing, 
(Major  Crespin  knew  now;  and,  knowing  his  own 
handicap  and  the  other  man's  worthiness,  was  bitterly, 
blackly  jealous. 

That  mended  nothing,  helped  nothing,  and  retarded 
and  impeded  much. 

The  children  and  their  ayah  and  bearer  had  been 
sent  to  Pahari  about  a  month  before  Major  Crespin's 
leave  was  due,  nearly  two  years  after  the  American 
General  had  broken  Colonel  Agnew's  regiment's 
bread,  and  honored  its  salt.  Dr.  Traherne  watching, 
without  seeming  to,  thought  he  saw  a  breakdown 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  73 

threatening.  At  such  times  to  get  Crespin  away  and 
out  of  sight  was  always  his  first  concern;  it  sometimes 
averted,  and — the  next  best  thing — it  always  hid. 

Traherne  had  a  new  "bus,"  a  costly,  beautiful 
"flyer,"  of  which  he  was  boyishly  proud.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  boy  still  in  Dr.  Basil  Traherne  in  spite 
of  his  natural  gravity  and  his  thirty-five  years.  The 
boy  persists  longest  in  the  biggest  men. 

He  urged  the  Crespins  to  let  him  fly  them  to  Pahari, 
where  they  proposed  to  spend  their  not  long  leave 
with  Iris  and  Ronald  in  the  cool  of  the  hills.  Mrs. 
Crespin  was  eager  to  fall  in  with  Traherne's  sugges 
tion,  and  Major  Crespin,  a  little  to  their  surprise, 
agreed  to  it  placidly;  for  the  last  two  years  scarcely 
had  improved  things  between  Crespin  and  Traherne, 
and  had  distinctly  made  them  worse  between  husband 
and  wife.  And  Major  Crespin  had  almost  as  little 
flair  for  aircraft  adventure  as  his  Colonel  had. 

It  is  said  that  the  offender  never  forgives.  Certainly 
it  is  quite  explicitly  hard  for  the  one  in  the  wrong  to 
do  so.  And  it  takes  more  spiritual  asset  than  con 
tinued  alcohol  often  leaves.  Antony  Crespin  was  not 
ungrateful  to  Dr.  Traherne  for  the  physician's  minis 
trations  that  "next  morning,"  and  on  several  others 
that  had  followed  it.  But  the  memory  rankled.  And 
he  made  it  harder  and  harder  for  the  physician  to 
succor  and  brace  him,  or  to  keep  up  the  show  of  a 
cordial  friendship,  which  in  India  Crespin  never  much 
had  felt,  and  which  Traherne  on  his  part  found  wear 
ing  steadily  thin.  The  physician's  interest  in  his  "case" 
never  slackened  or  wavered,  but  the  man's  liking  for 
the  man  very  nearly  went.  He  stood  to  his  merciful 
professional  guns  undauntedly — but  he  did  it  not  a 
little  grimly. 


74  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  curly-cue  thing  that  your  doctor  writes  at  the 
head  (or  if  he's  a  "big  man,"  has  printed  there — to 
save  him  the  trouble)  of  the  prescription  he  instructs 
you  to  have  made  up  at  the  chemist's,  and  take  inside 
you  three  times  a  day  before  meals,  is  a  prayer  to 
Apollo.  "Grant  health,  O  Apollo!"  It  seems  almost  a 
scandal,  a  medical  lapse  and  neglect,  that  every  physi 
cian  does  not  write  it  himself,  and  put  his  thought  and 
heart  into  it  as  he  does;  and  seems  too  a  trifle  sur 
prising  in  these  piping  days  of  spiritual-healing  and 
psycho-all-sorts-of-things.  Every  physician  aims  to 
give  the  same  professional  devotion — of  course! — to 
the  patient  who  does  not  attract  his  personal  liking 
as  to  the  patient  who  does.  But,  because  doctors  are 
only  human,  even  the  most  truly  vocated  rarely  quite 
succeed.  Dr.  Traherne  tried  determinedly  to  give 
Crespin  the  same  care  and  help  that  he  had  while  his 
,old  affection  for  him  still  held — and  the  physician  suc 
ceeded  as  well  as  the  man  could.  But  Crespin's  con 
tinued,  though  perhaps  on  the  whole  rarer  and  less, 
misconducts  and  his  growing  surliness  and  peevish 
ness,  rasped  Traherne's  patience  and  turned  his  once 
sincere  liking  to  a  feeling  very  different.  And  his 
growing  love  and  longing  for  the  woman  whom  Cres 
pin's  name  still  claimed,  and  whose  coldness  and  aloof 
ness  towards  her  husband  visibly  grew  from  month 
to  month,  made  any  real  feeling  of  friendship  for 
Crespin  impossible  now  to  Basil  Traherne.  His 
memory  of  Tony  Crespin,  Harrow  boy  and  fag- 
master,  was  tender  and  beautiful  still.  But  it  grew 
faint,  or,  at  least,  more  remote,  and  even  a  little 
blurred — and  rarely  vividly  associated  with  the  heavy, 
flushed,  dulled-eyed  Major  Crespin  whose  wife  Tra 
herne  pitied  and  desired. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  75 

That  is  how  it  stood  with  them,  as  the  new  aeroplane 
imperceptibly  rose  from  the  flat  beyond  the  parade- 
ground,  into  the  velvet-blue,  and  flew  towards  the 
Himalayas. 


CHAPTER  XII 

places  and  peoples  lie — for  the  most  part  un- 
suspected  by  the  rest  of  the  world — tucked  away 
solitary  and  secure  in  the  uncharted  wilds  beyond  the 
Himalayas:  tiny  isolated  kingdoms,  each  knowing 
naught  but  itself,  and  unknown  of  all  others,  strong 
holds  of  primitive  peoples  and  of  old  primitive  ways, 
elaborately  customed,  impregnably  individual — won 
derful,  incalculable  domains  to  which  few  white  trav 
elers  journey,  from  whose  sullen  bourne  none  return. 

The  Himalayas  are  cut  and  gashed  by  a  thousand 
fissures  and  natural  passes,  and  between  those  loop 
holes  in  the  great  mountain  range  lie  many  a  hidden 
principality,  cupped  in  mountains  and  rocks  as  impene 
trably  as  the  lair  of  some  skilful  outlaw  often  is  safe 
from  the  utmost  vigilance  of  the  police  of  the  American 
Northwest. 

Such  was  the  Kingdom  of  Rukh :  its  prince  keeping 
his  state,  his  people  keeping  their  ways,  exactly  as  they 
did  long  before  the  days  of  Genghis  Khan,  speaking 
their  own  guttural  language,  worshiping  their  own 
gods,  obeying  their  prince  in  all  ways  and  their  priests 
in  some — for  their  prince  was  more  to  them,  more 
loved,  more  feared,  tenfold  more  obeyed  than  all  their 
small  man-made  heaven  of  gods.  Who  were  they? 
What  were  they  ?  Whence  had  they  come  ?  What  was 
their  place  in  the  great  interknit  mosaic  of  mankind? 
None  can  say.  To  trace  them  quite  definitely  to  any 
outside  kinship  were  hopeless.  Yet  most  of  their  faces 

76 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  77 

were  somewhat  Mongolian,  with  here  and  there  one 
more  of  Aryan  type — always  in  some  tribesman  of 
power  and  place. 

It  was  an  absolute  monarchy,  if  ever  earthly  sway 
and  power  were  absolute — if  the  word  "absolute"  itself 
has  any  justification  of  veracity. 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  ruled  with  an  unquestioned  des 
potism  no  Western  monarch  dreams  of,  and  of  which 
but  few  in  the  past  ever  have  dreamed,  and  none  ever 
has  attained. 

So  often  is  Asian  princeship  thus  that  it  would  call 
for  no  remark  in  telling  of  Rukh,  were  it  not  for 
one  odd  fact.  Of  all  the  natives  of  little  Rukh,  this 
almost  omnipotent  ruler  was  the  sole  one  who  had 
smirched  his  birthright,  and  sinned  against  the  more- 
than-religion  of  the  race.  For  the  Raja  had  traveled, 
he  had  broken  strange,  unconsecrated  breads,  eaten 
strange,  polluted  meats.  He  had  lived  in  Europe,  and 
now  in  the  fortress-home  to  which  he  had  come  back  to 
his  own  he  in  his  own  person  mingled — superficially  at 
least — ways  of  Europe  with  the  ways  of  his  fathers. 
At  this  his  people  had  wondered  a  little,  but  not  one  had 
doubted  or  questioned,  unless  indeed  Toluk  Yap,  the 
high  priest,  doubted  now  and  then.  And  not  even 
Toluk  Yap  ever  had  questioned.  For  the  Raja  was 
god  in  Rukh,  and  the  gods  but  satellites  of  his  power 
and  rank. 

Too,  all  that  he  occasionally  did,  ate,  or  wore  that 
might  have  hinted  to  you  or  to  me  of  Pall  Mall  or 
the  Champs  Elysees,  seemed  to  his  enslaved,  docile 
people  but  an  eccentricity  of  his  individuality.  It 
might  have  stood  to  them  for  defilement,  his  occa 
sional  aping  of  European  ways,  and  have  disgruntled 
and  lashed  them  to  cut-throat  fury  and  open  rebel- 


78  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

lion,  had  they  sensed  it  for  what  it  was.  But  that  they 
could  ill  do,  since  they  did  not  know  or  suspect  that 
there  was  a  Europe.  He  had  been  away,  and  he  had 
come  back  to  them ;  that  was  all  they  knew ;  and  that  he 
had  come  back  was  all  they  cared. 

He  had  brought  back  with  him  one  grotesque  curio 
at  which  they  gaped  for  a  time,  and  then  ignored  with 
stolid  disgust  as  far  as  they  could:  a  white  ape  of  a 
man — if  it  was  a  man — who,  little  heed  as  they  paid  it, 
gave  them  their  first  unformed  film  of  idea  that  some 
where  beyond  the  mountains  that  bounded  and  ended 
their  world  there  were  places  on  the  earth  that  were 
bleached — where  trees  and  reptiles,  rocks  and  sky,  if 
trees,  reptiles  and  stones  and  sky  there  were,  all  were 
bleached  white  by  the  torture  and  misfortune  of  exist 
ing  so  far  from.Rukh,  as  the  tawn  of  the  leopard  was 
sometimes  bleached  by  the  lash  of  the  high  Himalayan 
cold. 

Such  prolonged  absence  as  this  Asian  prince  had  al 
lowed  himself  well  might  have  cost  him  his  throne. 
Scarcely  a  monarch  of  Europe — with  cables  and 
cinemas  to  remind  them — would  dare  to  leave  his 
people  so  long,  and  it  seems  a  far  rasher  thing  for  a 
prince  to  risk  whose  kingship  and  throne  lay  on  the 
more  quickly  shifting  sands  where  every  prime  min 
ister  is  a  would-be  supplanter,  almost  every  half- 
brother  a  usurper  at  core.  But  Rukh  had  known 
whom  to  trust  and  entrust,  and  had  known  when  to 
go,  and  when  to  come  back. 

Unknown  to  the  geographers  of  the  Occident,  un 
suspected  in  Whitehall  and  Westminster,  the  Kingdom 
of  Rukh  lay  snug  in  the  mountains  as  it  has,  perhaps, 
since  Adam  was  young.  And  its  despot's  rule  was 
absolute.  The  King  could  do  no  wrong.  For  the 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  79 

Royal  House  stood  by  the  people,  and  the  people  stood 
by  the  Royal  House  in  the  Kingdom  of  Rukh. 

A  grim  and  dun-colored  place  it  was,  a  region  of 
gaunt  and  almost  treeless  mountains,  all  of  them  bleak, 
barren  and  gray  of  tone  except  where  the  clear  atmos 
phere  lent  them  some  tint  of  its  hot  blue.  Clinging 
fiercely  to  the  fierce  mountain  wall,  a  mile  or  more 
away  from  the  temple  precincts,  was  a  vast  barbaric 
palace,  its  long  stretches  of  glum  unbroken  masonry 
crowned  and  relieved  by  endless  arcades  and  turrets; 
not  two  alike,  yet  all  in  key  and  consonance — a  for 
tress-palace  telling  of  centuries  of  human  labor,  of  long 
generations  of  wealth  and  lordship.  How  many  brown 
hands  had  lifted  it  up  stone  by  stone,  how  many  brown 
muscle-knotted  backs  had  bent  and  strained  at  its  mak 
ing,  is  beyond  compute.  Millions  of  peasants  must 
have  been  born  to  its  hewing  and  heaving  and  making, 
and  have  died  at  it  Here  in  its  desert  of  rocks,  its 
forest  of  mountains,  it  spoke  of  suzerainty  irresistible 
and  unresisted  as  nothing  in  the  West,  and  little  in  the 
East,  does,  a  suzerainty  so  enormous,  impossible  ever 
in  Europe,  almost  unprecedented  in  Asia,  that  it  well- 
nigh  told  a  human  power  the  one  thing  that  human 
power  never  is :  omnipotent. 

In  almost  the  one  level  place  in  the  principality  was 
builded  the  temple,  and  housed  the  gods.  This  level 
place  was  small,  a  scant  platform  of  earth  wedged  be 
tween  two  masses  of  rock.  In  the  rock  on  the  East  the 
cave-temple  had  been  roughly  hewn.  The  thick,  un 
gainly  pillars,  rudely  carved,  paint  centuries  old  still 
showing  faintly  here  and  there,  served  to  divide  the 
cave  roughly  into  three  parts.  Between  the  pillars  in 
the  middle  section  was  a  seated  stone  figure,  a  six- 
armed  goddess,  forbidding,  ferocious  of  aspect,  colored 


80  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

face,  arms  and  rough  indicated  robes  a  dark  and  sinis 
ter  green.  On  a  low  slab  of  altar  before  her  feet  newly 
severed  heads  of  six  or  seven  goats  still  reeked  from 
the  priestly  knife,  blood  still  warm  clotting  about  them, 
and  one — the  last  knifed — still  twitched  and  shivered 
in  symbol  of  recent  pain.  Untidy  and  moldering 
wreaths  and  handfuls  of  flowers  decorated  the  temple's 
honeycombed  walls,  and  lay  on  its  spattered  floor. 
Blood  dripped  on  marigolds,  and  bats  flew  cautiously 
here  and  there.  How  flowers  had  been  come  by  in  this 
desolate  place  of  gaunt,  bare  rock,  it  were  hard  to 
guess.  But  the  floral  offerings  were  there.  And  there 
were  gardens  in  Rukh,  almost  miracles  of  one  man's 
compulsion  and  his  people's  persistence.  The  Raja 
had  his  gardens  in  the  keeps  of  his  palace,  the  priests 
and  a  petted  woman  or  two  had  theirs  contrived  in 
some  split  in  the  mountains  of  rock,  places  of  verdure 
and  bloom  as  artificial  as  the  hanging  gardens  of  Baby 
lon,  and  much  more  surprising.  And  the  Raja  had  his 
runners.  What  the  Raja  of  Rukh  would,  he  com 
manded;  what  he  commanded  was  fulfilled. 

The  open  space  before  the  open  temple  formed  be 
tween  the  two  rock-masses  a  rudely  paved  forecourt  to 
the  temple.  It  was  bordered  by  a  sparse  company  of 
smaller  idols,  weather-proof,  it's  to  be  hoped,  and  prob 
ably  too  comparatively  insignificant  to  be  housed  with 
the  six-armed  monstrosity  in  the  blood-spattered,  bat- 
infested  cave.  Three  round-headed  stone  posts  stood 
near  the  outer  lesser  gods,  and  were  painted  green — • 
whether  in  an  economy  of  paint  left  over  from  the  great 
Green  Goddess,  or  in  the  wearing  of  her  livery,  were 
idle  guesswork  for  a  Westerner. 

Mountain  paths  wound  off  behind  the  rock,  and 
through  the  low,  listless  shrubs  that  grew  impassively 


81 

beside  them,  long  narrow  paths  winding  in  every  di 
rection,  that  the  overlord's  runners  might  hasten  the 
quicker  and  surer  wherever  he  willed. 

There  were  few  words  in  Rukh  as  a  rule.  The  peo 
ple  worked  too  hard  to  talk  overmuch.  Their  temple 
rites  were  nearly  their  only  social  gatherings;  and  the 
temple  rites  watched  and  done,  they  were  wont  to  dis 
perse  almost  in  silence,  lumbering  stolidly  back  to  labor, 
food  or  sleep. 

But  to-day  the  worshipers  were  lingering  excitedly 
in  the  courtyard,  watching  wide-eyed  something  up  in 
the  air,  a  great  gray  and  silver  bird  of  prey,  a  strange 
fish-like  bird  with  amazing  markings  of  blue  and  red 
on  its  silver  belly — only  the  ordinary  identification  of 
such  birds,  but  neither  Arabic  nor  Roman  numerals 
were  common  sights  in  Rukh — a  horrible  monster  bird 
of  prey  whose  like  they  never  had  seen  or  heard  tell  of, 
never  had  dreamed  of  when  nightmares  tossed  their 
hard-earned  sleep ;  and  it  was  swooping  down  on  them 
with  a  hideous  cracking  whizz. 

"Oo-ae!"  a  native  cried. 

"Oo-ae !"  another  sobbed. 

"Oo-ae !  Oo-ae !"  they  all  cried  then  in  mingled  gut 
turals  of  dismay  and  despair. 

It  was  a  pathetically  hideous  group  of  unkempt, 
squat,  frightened  hillsmen,  high-cheeked,  rather  Mon 
gol  in  type,  strong-limbed,  stupid  of  face  (not  Mongol 
in  that) ,  adding  nothing  of  color  to  the  dark  drab  place, 
for  their  rough,  almost  unmade  garments  were  somber 
and  dark.  A  man  of  higher  stature  and  better  gar 
ments  stood  amongst  them,  his  skin  was  lighter,  his 
features  more  of  Aryan  type,  his  eye-sockets  wider, 
more  open,  an  embroidered  fur  cap  on  his  head,  a 
marigold  stuck  in  its  beads.  He  had  some  evident 


82  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

authority  over  them — Yazok  the  temple  priest — for 
when  one  turned  to  flee : 

"Na-yam !"  ordered  the  priest,  and  the  man  did  not 
go.  A  braver  raised  his  weapon — they  most  of  them 
were  armed — and  again  Yazok  commanded  "Na-yam !" 
and  the  fellow  let  his  lifted  arm  and  the  weapon  he 
held  fall  to  his  side. 

On  and  down  swooped  the  monster  bird.  The  priest 
watched  it,  silent  and  motionless,  but  with  a  tense  look 
of  acrid  dislike  on  his  face,  and  a  glance  of  patient 
contempt  now  and  then  to  the  huddled,  shivering  group 
which  drew  closer  and  closer  together,  pressing  farther 
away  to  the  edge  of  the  place,  closer  and  closer  to  him, 
ejaculating,  "Oo-ae!  Oo-ae!" 

The  bird  had  lit. 

It  had  finished  its  flight  just  back  of  the  temple.  One 
terrible  talon — or  was  it  the  tip  of  its  great  wing? — 
projected  threateningly  over  the  mass  of  rocks  at  the 
west.  The  aeroplane  that  had  risen  from  Dehra  Dun 
so  surely  and  lightly,  while  the  band  had  played  "Good- 
by,  I'm  going  to  leave  you  now,"  had  made  a  forced 
landing  on  the  inhospitable  slope  of  unknown  Rukh,  a 
landing  so  imperatively  forced  that  almost  it  might  be 
termed  a  crash. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LUCILLA  CRESPIN  came  into  sight  first,  but  Tra- 
herne  was  first  on  the  ground.  Crispin  climbing 
down  rather  awkwardly  hesitated  a  moment  at  a  diffi 
cult  point,  his  foothold  not  too  wide  or  secure,  the 
available  foothold  below  an  uncomfortable  distance  to 
a  man  of  his  weight.  India  does  not  treat  us  all  alike, 
we  who  invade  her,  not  even  our  soldier-men.  Pun 
jabi  soldiering  had  not  kept  Antony  Crespin  fit. 
Lucilla  had  known  it  for  years;  observant,  clear-eyed, 
badly  sensitive  where  those  who  were  hers  were  con 
cerned,  she  had  watched  the  sag  and  the  bloat  come  and 
gain  almost  day  by  day.  But  as  she  stood  and  looked 
at  him  now,  it  struck  her  anew,  and  more  sharply  than 
it  had  done  before,  sickened  her  even  more  than  it 
had  done  in  those  two  bitter  hours  of  her  fresh  wife- 
hood's  disillusion  when  she  had  realized  shudderingly .. 
the  twin  rotten  fissures  in  a  husband's  being. 

Women  and  wine !  Both  had  branded  and  slackened 
him.  She  wondered  which  had  spoiled  and  twisted 
him  most.  She  knew  which  had  tortured  her  the  more. 
The  "pegs"  he  had  sipped  and  drained  too  often,  too 
early,  too  late,  and  too  strong,  had  disgusted  and 
"turned"  her  clean,  wholesome  flesh  the  more.  But 
the  women  had  tortured  her  far  more  cruelly  than  his 
cups  had.  They  had  "turned"  her  soul  and  poisoned 
her  heart.  The  drinking  she  held  a  weakness — con 
temptible  but  not  unpitiable — innate,  inherited,  uncon 
trollable  perhaps,  but  the  infidelities  that  had  affronted 

83 


84  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

her  pride,  bowed  her  head,  curdled  the  milk  in  her 
young  mother-breasts,  she  held  a  personal  meanness  and 
unforgivable  crime,  a  hideous  responsibility  that  lay 
forever  at  his  door.  It  is  so  that  women  judge — for 
giving,  condoning  every  masculine  folly  and  sin  that  is 
no  direct  reflection  and  slight  to  her. 

This  was  not  the  man  she  had  married — that  almost 
obese,  flush-faced  Crespin  standing  irresolutely  there 
a  little  above  her.  No.  But  it  was  what  had  been  he, 
and  it  was  the  human  being  to  whom  she  was  indisso- 
lubly  bound.  The  fetter  cut  into  her  being.  But  she 
kept  her  pact — now  as  ever. 

"Take  care,  Antony!"  she  cried  brightly,  as  he  was 
about  to  risk  it  and  jump.  "Let  Dr.  Traherne  give 
you  a  hand." 

"Yes!"  Traherne  echoed.  He  already  had  gained 
the  lower  ground,  surefooted  and  cool. 

"Hang  it  all,"  Crespin  shook  his  wife's  suggestion 
and  the  other  man's  proffered  assistance  off  with  a 
testy  impatience  that  spurred  his  own  faulty  physical 
courage,  "I'm  not  such  a  crock  as  all  that."  He  jumped 
as  he  spoke,  jumped  heavily,  but  landed  safely  enough. 

Lucilla  gave  a  little  sigh  of  relief ;  she  scarcely  could 
have  told  herself  how  far  it  was  sincere,  how  far  acting 
— her  wif  ehood  was  so  permeated  by  acting  now. 

Traherne  turned  away  from  Antony,  and  a  some 
thing  of  pity  passed  across  the  younger  man's  eyes;  he 
understood,  as  she  did  not,  that  Lucilla's  words  had 
hurt  Crespin — and  he  pitied  him.  He  still  judged  An 
tony  more  fairly  than  Mrs.  Crespin  did,  more  fairly 
than  she  could,  or  many  women  can. 

"Are  you  all  right,  Mrs.  Crespin?"  There  was  just 
enough  concern  in  his  voice  and  in  his  glance,  and  not 
an  iota  too  much.  Less  would  have  been  a  boorishness, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  85 

more  must  have  been  a  caress.  "Not  very  much 
shaken?" 

"Not  a  bit !"  she  laughed. 

"It  was  a  nasty  bump,"  the  pilot  said  ruefully. 

"You  managed  splendidly,"  the  woman  defended 
heartily. 

"Come  on,  Lu,"  Crespin  interrupted;  "sit  on  that 
ledge,  and  I  can  swing  you  down." 

Perhaps  Basil  Traherne  doubted  it,  for  he  too  went 
a  step  nearer  and  held  out  his  hand,  saying,  "Let  me — " 

She  put  her  hands  impartially  in  theirs,  and  jumped 
lightly  down,  sayings  "Thanks,"  as  impartially. 

The  natives  watching  the  strange  newcomers  with 
wonder  and  fear,  began  to  chatter  eagerly  among  them 
selves.  If  the  big  bird  of  prey  had  seemed  uncanny 
and  awesome,  these  strange  creatures  it  had  disgorged 
as  it  dashed  to  its  death,  scarcely  seemed  less  so.  All 
three  were  protected  and  disfigured  with  flying-helmets 
and  leather  aviation  coats — odd  enough  sights  to  Euro 
pean  eyes  when  seen  for  the  first  time.  What  must 
they  not  have  looked  to  those  untraveled  natives  of 
isolated,  rock-bound  Rukh! 

The  priest  turned  and  said  a  word  to  one  of  the 
gape-mouth  crowd — a  lithe,  sinewy  youth  more  scant 
ily  clad  than  the  others,  a  grotesque  cipher,  picked  out 
in  red,  green  and  ochre,  branded  on  one  gleaming 
shoulder,  and  but  for  his  rag  of  loin-cloth,  stripped  for 
his  master's  running,  which  was  his  office  in  life.  The 
priest  spoke,  and  the  runner  instantly  made  off  at  great 
speed  towards  the  distant  castle. 

The  travelers  had  taken  off  their  helmets  now,  and  a 
new  murmur  of  wonder  ran  through  the  little  cluster, 
while  a  half  look  of  intelligence  just  showed  on  the 
priest's  face. 


86  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"That  last  ten  minutes  was  pretty  trying/'  Major 
Crespin  said,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who  half  apologizes, 
half  defends  some  premeditated  deed  he  knows  apt  to 
be  censured.  "I  don't  mind  owning  that  my  nerves 
are  all  of  a  twitter."  He  fumbled  inside  his  thick 
leather  coat,  and  pulled  out  a  flask.  "Have  a  mouthful, 
Traherne  ?"  he  asked  with  a  nonchalance  a  shade  over 
done,  as  he  unscrewed  it  and  poured  out  a  generous 
dram. 

"No,  thank  you,"  Traherne  said  easily,  helping  Mrs. 
Crespin  out  of  her  coat. 

"You  won't,  I  know,"  Crespin  said  to  his  wife  with 
a  feebly  jocular  turn  of  the  flask-top — now  a  cup — in 
her  direction.  "I  will!"  he  drank  off  the  brandy. 
"That's  better!"  He  refilled  the  cup  and  drank  again. 
"And  now,  where  are  we,  Doctor?" 

"I  have  no  notion,"  Traherne  confessed  as  he  threw 
off  his  own  coat. 

"Let's  ask  the  populace,"  Crespin  suggested  cheer 
fully.  Traherne  nodded,  not  too  encouragingly,  and 
Crespin  went  up  to  the  still  chattering  crowd — in  which 
the  priest  alone  stood  silent  and  grimly  observant, 
watching  the  pale  intruders  intently  through  narrow 
ing  eyes.  The  natives  shrank  back  in  open  fear  as 
Crespin  came  up  to  them — all  but  the  priest ;  he  stood 
his  ground,  and  even,  at  the  half  salutation  the  English 
man  gave,  salaamed  slightly,  but  almost  contemptu 
ously. 

Crespin  spoke — in  Hindustani — but  it  drew  a  blank. 
It  was  evident  that  Hindustani  was  as  useless  here  as 
English  or  Norse.  The  priest  listened  blankly,  and 
then  in  his  turn  poured  forth  a  speech  of  some  length 
— almost  as  long  as  it  was  guttural,  voluble  and  heated, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  87 

pointing  dramatically  now  to  the  dusky  incarnadined 
temple,  now  to  the  beetling  palace. 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Crespin  and  Dr.  Traherne  expected  lit 
tle  from  Crespin's  embassy,  perhaps  they  were  willing 
to  wait  patiently  to  hear  from  him  its  result.  For  they 
made  no  steps  to  follow  him,  and  paid  little  attention, 
but  stood  together  just  where  he  left  them. 

"You  were  splendid  all  through,"  Traherne  said  in  a 
low,  tense  voice  that  said  more  than  his  words. 

"I  had  perfect  faith  in  you,"  the  woman  answered, 
her  eyes  full  and  frank  on  his. 

And  his  eyes  thanked  her.  But  he  only  said  regret 
fully,  "If  I'd  had  another  pint  of  petrol  I  might  have 
headed  for  that  sort  of  esplanade  behind  the  castle  up 
there.  .  .  ." 

"Yes,  I  saw  it." 

".  .  .  and  made  an  easy  landing.  But  I  simply  had 
to  try  for  this  place,  and  trust  to  luck." 

"It  wasn't  luck,"  Lucilla  said  quickly,  "but  your  skill 
that  saved  us." 

The  sudden  blood  rushed  over  Traherne's  wind- 
browned  face.  It  was  more  than  she  had  said  to  him 
ever  before — not  the  simple,  conventional  words,  but 
the  pride  in  him  that  pulsed  in  them,  pride  in  him,  and 
something  too  of  a  claiming.  She  did  not  know  that, 
and  he  knew  that  she  did  not.  But  he  heard  and  under 
stood,  and  his  heart  lashed  at  his  ribs,  and  was  hurt. 
In  all  the  few  hard  years  of  his  service  to  her,  man's 
service  never  stinted,  never  underlined,  no  such  open 
recognition  of  the  hidden  thing  that  lay  between  them 
had  ever  been  told.  He  had  known — from  the  first. 
But  he  had  hoped  and  believed  that  she  did  not.  Was 
he  glad  or  sorry?  He  was  both.  His  loyalty  and 


88  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

friendship  regretted,  but  his  man's  nature  leapt  and 
was  glad.  When  he  had  tried  to  hide  Antony's  weak 
ness  from  her,  and  to  shield  her  from  it — to  keep  it  out 
of  her  presence,  to  drive  it  from  her  thoughts,  when 
together  they  had  strained  and  schemed,  as  they  con 
stantly  had,  to  save  Crespin  from  himself,  and  her  and 
her  children  from  the  present  shame  and  coming  conse 
quences  of  his  sick  misdoings,  no  word,  no  sign,  had 
been  let  slip  from  him  to  her,  or  from  her  to  him,  ac 
knowledging  why  he  stood  to  her  side.  She  often  had 
spoken  to  him  of  Antony's  good  qualities,  never  of  An 
tony's  faults. 

But  now  a  barrier  was  down — only  one  of  many, 
the  others  still  held,  but  one — and  she  had  let  it  fall. 
It  usually  is  the  woman  who  lets  it  fall. 

"It  wasn't  luck,"  she  repeated  contemptuously.  "It 
was  your  skill  that  saved  us,"  she  added,  and  the 
change  in  her  voice,  the  quick,  white  flame  on  her 
face,  was  confession  and  challenge — challenge  the 
more  compelling,  confession  the  more  complete,  be 
cause  the  woman  had  made  them  unconsciously. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  Traherne  said  in  a  voice 
not  too  well  under  control.  The  woman  looked  at  him 
quickly.  Their  eyes  met,  as  they  had  not  met  before. 
His  face  quivered  a  little.  And  then  the  man's  eyes 
fell — not  Lucilla's. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TO  say  that  Traherne  and  Crespin  were  less  than 
intensely  perturbed  at  the  situation  in  which  they 
found  themselves,  and  still  worse  in  which  they  had 
landed  the  woman  who  was  dear  to  them  both,  would 
be  to  wrong  their  intelligence — or  any  even  mediocre 
intelligence.  And  these  men  had  each  more  than  aver 
age  intelligence,  mental  equipment  more  acute  and 
deeper  than  Crespin  often  had  been  credited  with — for 
we  most  of  us  make  the  common  and  crass  mistake  of 
thinking  that  a  mind,  an  intelligence,  totally  different 
from  our  own,  is  not  so  fine.  Antony  Crespin  had 
punished  and  soiled  his  once  fine  body,  almost  hope 
lessly  now,  but,  except  for  sheer  physical  nervous 
ness  that  drugged  it  sometimes,  he  had  not  deeply  in 
jured  his  mind.  He  had  been  no  carpet-soldier.  Again 
and  again,  on  active  service,  he  had  "made  good,"  as 
soldier  and  as  man.  Traherne  was  the  better  man, 
but  Crespin  was  the  better  soldier — which  was  as  it 
should  be.  It  was  Major  Crespin's  business  to  make 
wounds,  it  was  Dr.  Traherne's  business  to  heal  them — 
unless  the  other  had  done  his  work  so  well  that  no 
chance  or  cause  of  help  was  left. 

They  were  thoroughly  frightened,  but  they  took  it 
lightly,  of  course :  they  were  British.  And  but  for  the 
woman's  being  with  them,  they  might  even  have  found 
tingle  and  excitement  not  altogether  unpleasant  in  the 
undeniable  predicament.  Lucilla  made  all  the  differ 
ence — she  and,  to  Crespin,  the  two  babies  in  Pahari. 
He  was  thinking  of  them  as  he  turned  back  from  his 


90  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

fruitless  mission.  And  his  mouth  set  hard  and  sharp, 
and  his  tongue  felt  dry  and  thick.  But  he  sauntered 
idly  enough  across  the  small  flagged  courtyard,  and  said 
with  a  careless  shrug: 

"It's  no  use — he  doesn't  understand  a  word  of  Hin 
dustani.  You  know  Russian,  don't  you,  Doctor?" 

"A  little." 

"We  must  be  well  on  towards  Central  Asia,"  Crespin 
declared.  "Suppose  you  try  him  in  Russian.  Ask  him 
where  the  hell  we  are,  and  who  owns  the  shooting  box 
up  yonder." 

"Right-o,"  Traherne  nodded.  "It's  worth  trying  at 
least." 

Lucilla  and  Crespin  followed  a  little  behind  him  as 
he  moved  to  the  temple  priest.  And  when  he  said 
something  in  Russian  they  saw  that  the  priest's  face 
kindled.  He  pointed  to  the  rock-hung  castle,  pointed 
down  to  the  ground,  and  then  with  one  magnificent, 
wide,  sweeping  gesture  that  seemed  to  take  in  not  only 
the  whole  country,  but  to  indicate  title-deed  to  all  the 
world,  exclaimed : 

"Rukh!  Rukh !  Rukh !  Rukh !"  in  a  herald  voice  that 
proclaimed  that  the  fortress-like  castle  was  Rukh,  the 
ground  they  stood  on  Rukh,  the  cave-temple,  the  im 
mense  horn  of  metallic  lacquer  poised  on  a  crag  beyond 
the  castle — the  most  unique  and  surprising  thing  in  all 
the  amazing  picture — the  sky  above,  all  of  creation  that 
mattered  or  counted — Rukh,  imperial,  incomparable 
Rukh — Rukh,  the  apex  of  the  world. 

But  for  all  that  his  statement  meant  to  them  Crespin 
said  disgustedly,  "What  the  deuce  is  he  rooking  about  ?" 

"Goodness  knows,"  Traherne  rejoined. 

But  the  woman  jumped  to  it. 

"I  believe  I  know !"  she  broke  in.    Crespin  and  Tra- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  91 

herne  gazed  at  her  in  surprise — her  husband  incredu 
lous,  Traherne  very  curious.  "Wait  a  minute!"  she 
commanded,  searching  her  pockets  excitedly — almost, 
in  her  quiet,  well-bred  English  way,  as  excited  as 
Yazok  himself.  "I  thought  I  had  the  paper  with  me. 
I  wish  I  could  find  it.  But  I  did  have  it,  and  I  did 
read  it.  I  know  I  did.  I  read  it  in  the  Leader  just 
before  we  started,  that  the  three  men  who  murdered 
the  Political  Officer  at  Abdulabad  came  from  a  wild 
region  at  the  back  of  the  Himalayas,  called  Rukh." 

"Yes,"  Traherne  told  them,  "now  that  you  mention 
it,  I  have  heard  of  the  place." 

"Well,  that's  something,"  Crespin  exclaimed. 
"Come,  we're  getting  on." 

"Perhaps,"  the  physician  said  under  his  breath,  as 
he  turned  again  to  Yazok  the  priest  and  accosted  him 
once  more  in  a  few  Russian  words,  pointing  inter 
rogatively  to  the  palace. 

But  the  priest's  Russian  was  little,  less  than  Tra- 
herne's  own,  and  Yazok  had  no  intention  of  being 
over-communicative. 

"Raja  Sahib,"  he  said — so  he  had  some  smattering 
of  Hindustani  after  all — "Raja  Sahib,"  he  repeated 
several  times;  but  that  was  all  that  he  would  say. 

But  those  two  familiar  words  told  them  a  good  deal 
of  what  they  wished  to  know. 

"Oh,"  Crespin  grunted,  "it's  Windsor  Castle,  is  it? 
Well,  we'd  better  make  tracks  for  it.  Come,  Lucilla." 
He  put  his  hand  on  her  arm,  and  they  turned  to  go. 

But  the  priest  barred  their  way,  in  a  frenzy  of  ex 
citement,  pouring  forth  a  wild  torrent  of,  to  them,  quite 
unintelligible  language. 

Traherne  intervened,  speaking  again  in  Russian,  and 
it  served  to  calm  the  hillsman  measurably,  though  the 


92  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

native  throng  at  his  elbows  still  muttered  and  gesticu 
lated  threateningly.  But  Yazok  listened,  if  surlily,  and 
presently  vouchsafed  in  reply  a  few  Russian  words 
which  he  spoke  slowly  and  with  evident  difficulty. 

"His  Russian  is  even  more  limited  than  mine,"  Tra- 
herne  told  the  others,  "but  I  gather  that  the  Raja  has 
been  sent  for,  and  will  come  here." 

"All  right,"  Crespin  said  wearily,  "then  we'd  better 
await  developments,"  and,  lighting  a  cigarette,  seated 
himself  on  one  of  the  green  painted  stones,  and  began 
to  smoke  with  impatient  patience. 

Oriental  Bedlam  broke  loose.  Almost  before  the 
Englishman  had  gained  his  hard  seat  Yazok  rushed  on 
him  wildly,  caught  at  his  shoulders,  and  with  wild  ex 
clamations  and  fierce  blazing  eyes,  hustled  him  off,  and 
then,  disregarding  utterly  the  amazed  and  furious 
Major,  salaamed  low  and  penitentially  to  the  stone, 
bent  again  and  again  with  humble,  deprecatory  ges 
tures,  and  a  frightened  hurricane  of  propitiatory  for 
mulas,  an  inchoate  sing-song  of  throaty,  guttural  words 
that  sounded  half  wailing  woe,  half  cringing  prayer. 
And  the  people  no  longer  shrank  away,  but  pressed  to 
wards  Major  Crespin  brandishing  fists  and  weapons, 
and  storming  determinedly,  "Oo-ae,  oo-ae,  gak-kok- 
oo-ae,  gak-gak !" 

Crespin's  red  face  turned  white  in  his  anger,  his  tired 
eyes  stiffened  and  flashed,  and  quicker  than  told  his 
hand  lay  on  his  revolver-case.  He  still  smoked  on  im- 
perturbably,  but  Yazok  was  nearer  death  than  he  ever 
had  been. 

"Confound  you,  take  care  what  you're  doing!"  Cres 
pin  warned  him,  snapping  the  words  out  coldly  from 
between  clenched  teeth.  "You'd  better  treat  us  civilly 
or—" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  93 

Basil  Traherne  broke  in.  "Gently,  gently,  Major," 
he  begged  with  a  hand  on  Crespin's  right  arm.  "This 
is  evidently  some  sort  of  sacred  enclosure,  and  you 
were  sitting  on  one  of  the  gods." 

"Well,"  Crespin  retorted  with  a  vexed,  contemptu 
ous  laugh,  "damn  him,  he  might  have  told  me !" 

Lucilla  smiled  for  the  first  time,  and  drew  close  to 
her  husband,  but  her  eyes  were  frightened  and  her 
heart  was  pounding.  But  Lucilla  Crespin  matched  her 
pluck  with  theirs — she  who  had  the  most  to  live  for, 
and  the  most  to  make  her  welcome  death. 

"If  he  had,"  Traherne  expostulated,  "you  wouldn't 
have  understood.  The  fellow  seems  to  be  the  priest — : 
you  see,  he's  begging  the  god's  pardon." 

"If  I  knew  his  confounded  lingo  I'd  jolly  well  make 
him  beg  mine,"  Crespin  retorted  with  a  murderous 
scowl  at  the  still  penancing,  groveling  priest,  as  obli 
vious  of  them  in  the  stress  of  his  penitential  perturba 
tion  as  if  they'd  been  three  ants  in  a  crack  of  the  rocks. 

"But  you  don't  know  his  lingo,"  Mrs.  Crespin  said, 
rather  as  if  she  did  not  regret  it,  and  moving  away 
cautiously  but  curiously  towards  the  other  side  of  the 
enclosure. 

"We'd  better  be  careful  not  to  tread  on  their  corns," 
Traherne  urged.  "We  have  Mrs.  Crespin  to  think  of." 

Antony's  face  knotted  and  crimsoned  again.  "Damn 
it,  sir,"  he  growled  rudely,  "do  you  think  I  don't 
know  how  to  take  care  of  my  wife?" 

"I  think  you're  a  little  hasty,  Major,  that's  all," 
Traherne  replied  pleasantly.  "These  are  evidently 
queer  people,  and  we're  dependent  on  them,  you  know, 
to  get  out  of  our  hobble." 

Crespin  scowled  and  smoked  on  moodily,  but  made 
no  reply.  Some  men,  and  not  bad  sorts  at  that,  who 


94  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

knew  him  as  Traherne  did,  might  have  felt  inclined 
to  throttle  him  as  he  sat  there,  surly,  quarrelsome  and 
ungrateful — a  positive  menace  to  them  all  in  their 
grave  predicament,  the  man  who  had  ruined  the  life 
of  the  woman  Traherne  loved — as  far  as  one  human 
being  can  wreck  the  life  of  another — who  had  spoiled 
her  joy,  sullied  her  mind,  and  made  of  her  radiant 
young  wifehood  a  sour  memory  that  ached  and  reeked ; 
the  man  whose  bloated,  degenerated  being  stood  the 
only  barrier  between  Traherne  and  the  woman  he 
longed  for,  as  only  clean,  upright  men  of  scrupulous 
life  can  long — if  the  roue  but  knew  what  he  misses  of 
nature's  greatest  impulse ! — the  man  to  whom  Traherne 
had  ministered  unflaggingly  for  hard,  patient  years, 
between  whose  self  and  its  worst  parts  and  the  im 
pending  consequences  of  ill-doing  Traherne  had  stood 
persistently.  But  Basil  Traherne  had  no  such  impulse. 
Towards  Antony  Crespin  he  had  no  harsher  feeling 
than  pity  and  sympathy.  He  pitied  Lucilla  and 
grieved  for  her,  but  his  pity  and  grief  for  the  husband 
were  more.  For  his  science  told  him  that  the  recreant 
man's  plight  and  misery  were  greater  than  the  guiltless 
woman's.  The  physician  knew.  And  he  was  true  to 
his  vocation — the  vocation  than  which  earth  has  none 
higher  and  finer.  Traherne  knew  what  Crespin's  life 
long  handicap  had  been — ancestral  taint,  youth  mis 
guided  and  unprotected,  and  he  did  not  judge  the 
other  who  had  succumbed  to  a  strain  and  propensities 
that  he  himself,  so  circumstanced  and  tainted,  might 
have  succumbed  to  as  completely  and  more.  And,  too, 
Traherne  knew — for  he  had  seen — as  Lucilla  willfully 
blind  and  incapacitated  by  nature  never  had  seemed 
to  see — how  heroically  Antony  again  and  again  had 
stood  naked  in  Ephesus  and  fought  his  own  soul- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  95 

beasts — knew  and  honored  him  for  it.  And  the  physi 
cian  knew,  as  no  lay  mind  can,  the  terrible  provocation 
of  torn,  jumping  nerves;  and  he  sometimes,  though 
without  blaming  her,  wondered  that  Mrs.  Crespin  had 
not  realized  at  least  something  of  this.  But  nerves  are 
the  one  part  of  masculine  anatomy  of  which  few 
women  take  any  account,  and  of  which  such  women 
as  Lucilla  Crespin  take  less  than  none — incapable 
always  of  intrinsic  justice  to  the  sex  which  they  some 
what  arrogantly  judge  by  their  own  imperious  and 
narrowed,  if  "nice,"  standards,  rather  than  by  the 
measure  nature  has  set.  What  Antony  had  done  to 
her  and  her  children  she  computed  hotly  over  and  over, 
but  she  gave  less  than  a  fair  thought  and  pity  to  what 
he  had  done  to  himself,  and  made  no  mark  at  all  oi 
what  he'd  resisted.  Dr.  Traherne  did,  and  he  scanned 
Antony  Crespin  with  a  gentleness  that  was  both  mascu 
line  and  splendid — and,  because  of  his  passion  of 
heart,  soul  and  body  for  the  other's  wife,  was  heroic 
and  fine.  Lucilla  Crespin  would  have  been  amazed 
could  she  have  known  how  the  scales  of  Traherne's 
judgment  weighed  her  and  Antony  against  each  other  ; 
and,  being  a  woman,  her  resentment  would  have  been 
more  than  her  surprise. 

Dr.  Traherne  loved  Lucilla  Crespin  with  the  one 
man-love  of  his  life;  but  he  did  not  overrate  her,  and 
still  less  did  he  credit  her  with  attributes  and  abilities 
that  nature  had  denied  her.  For  Major  Crespin  Tra 
herne  had  little  love  left  perhaps — but  he  had  some, 
and  far  more  than  a  meaner  soul  could  have  under 
stood — and  he  had  big,  yearning  pity.  No  matter  how 
tender  such  men  are  to  all  womanhood,  the  wreck  of 
manhood  always  must  seem  to  such  men  as  Traherne  a 
deeper  tragedy  than  any  feminine  suffering.  And  one 


96  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

thing  else  weighed  with  him  on  Crespin's  side  of  the 
balancing  scales :  Lucilla  had  and  would  hold  the  love 
and  admiration  of  their  children ;  Antony  would  lose  it, 
if  he  lived.  And  Traherne  sensed  how  intensely  Cres- 
pin  loved  his  youngsters.  Lucilla  did  not.  The  Edel 
weiss  keeps  its  admirable  purity  high  up  in  the  cold  of 
the  inscrutable  Alps,  the  clover  bloom  is  bruised  and 
stained  in  the  wayside  dirt;  but  why  praise  the  Edel 
weiss,  why,  in  Heaven's  name,  blame  the  clover  "low 
i'  the  dust"  ?  Draggled  and  broken,  the  clover-head  still 
gives  a  perfume,  shows  a  color  the  unsmirched  flower 
in  the  ice  and  snow  forever  lacks.  And,  if  Traherne 
never  forgot — what  every  physician  knows — that  "to 
step  aside  is  human,"  he  not  only  pitied  Crespin  for 
all  in  the  older  man  that  was  faulty  and  weak,  he  also 
liked  and  respected  him  for  what  was  strong  and  good. 
And  there  was  much. 

Antony  Crespin's  wife  was  unhappy;  she  needed  no 
added  heartache,  but  she  might  have  been  unhappier 
yet,  had  she  seen  her  husband  as  Dr.  Traherne  saw  him. 

Certainly  the  world  would  be  a  far  duller  place  if 
we  all  were  as  fair-minded  as  Basil  Traherne,  and  if 
life  carried  no  privilege  and  zest  of  censure.  You'd 
be  less  contented  and  comfortable,  if  you  did  not 
think  that  you  were  better  than  I  am,  and  I  should  be 
less  comfortable  and  contented,  if  I  did  not  know  that 
I  am  better  than  you  are. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  priest  still  apologized  to  the  stone.  The 
people  still  jabbered  and  watched.  Crespin 
smoked  on,  and  Traherne  stood  quietly  studying  the 
place — the  lay  of  its  land,  the  stand  of  the  rocks,  the 
length  and  strength  of  the  castle  walls. 

"Do  you  think  I  could  sit  on  this  stone  without 
giving  offense  to  the  deities?"  Lucilla  called  to  them 
over  her  shoulder. 

Traherne  answered  her  after  a  glance  at  the  flat 
rock  to  which  she  pointed — a  slab  of  flint  quite  with 
out  vestments  of  green  or  of  paint. 

"Oh,  yes,  that  seems  safe  enough.  I  don't  know," 
he  continued,  joining  her  where  she  sat,  but  not  shar 
ing  her  seat,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  that  Crespin  could 
not  fail  to  hear,  "how  to  apologize  for  having  got 
you  into  this  mess." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  Dr.  Traherne,"  she  answered 
cheerfully.  "Who  can  foresee  a  Himalayan  fog?" 

"The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  get  above  it,  and 
then,  of  course,  my  bearings  were  gone."  He  still 
spoke  apologetically — and  unconsciously  he  dropped 
his  voice  as  he  said  it,  as  every  man's  instinct  is  when 
he  says  even  the  most  trivial  things  to  the  one  woman. 
Crespin  caught  the  tone's  lowering,  and  shifted  about 
a  little  where  he  sat,  and  listened  the  more  intently. 

"Now  that  we  are  safe,"  Lucilla's  voice  was  not 
lowered  at  all,  "I  should  think  it  all  great  fun,  if  it 
weren't  for  the  children." 

"Oh,  they  don't  expect  us  for  a  week,"  Crespin 

97 


98  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

edged  in,  "and  surely  it  won't  take  us  more  than  that 
to  get  back  to  civilization."  He  spoke  with  more  con 
fidence  than  he  felt. 

And  Basil  Traherne  felt  less.  The  more  he  studied 
the  place  they'd  landed  on  and  the  people,  the  less  he 
thought  of  the  chances  of  cordial  hospitality  or  of 
quick  and  easy  departure.  But  there  was  no  use  in 
saying  so  to  Crespin  here  and  now,  and  there  was 
every  reason  for  not  saying  or  hinting  it  to  Mrs. 
Crespin  at  all,  unless  a  positive  necessity  compelled. 
But  the  next  few  days  or  hours  might  show  brighter 
than  his  fears.  God  grant  it!  So  he  merely  said, 
not  too  sanguine  at  heart,  cheerful  of  voice,  "Or  at 
all  events  to  a  telegraph  line,"  and  he  marshaled  a 
cheerful  smile  with  his  words.  A  man  has  a  right  to 
be  cheerful  as  long  as  he  can.  And  men  of  Tra 
herne' s  breed  hold  it  a  duty — a  duty  not  to  be  shirked. 
If  to  borrow  trouble  is  folly,  to  lend  or  impose  it  is 
crime. 

"I  suppose  there's  no  chance  of  flying  back?"  Mrs. 
Crespin  asked  more  anxiously  than  she  knew. 

"Not  the  slightest,  I'm  afraid,"  Traherne  admitted. 
"I  fancy  the  old  bus  is  done  for." 

"Oh,  Dr.  Traherne,  what  a  shame !  And  you'd  only 
had  it  a  few  weeks!"  Her  concern  for  the  wrecked 
aeroplane  was  entirely  sincere,  but  something  bigger 
than  that  throbbed  at  her  side  and  shook  her  voice 
just  a  little.  The  men  were  thoroughly  frightened, 
and  she  sensed  it  and  shared  it.  But  her  fear  was 
far  less  than  theirs;  she  knew  Asia  less,  and  she  had 
two  men  beside  her,  men  of  her  own  race,  one  whom 
she  trusted  in  all  things,  the  other  her  husband.  And 
only  very  small  women  can  feel  as  sick  a  fear  when 
companioned  by  men,  as  men  feel  who  know  them- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  99 

selves  but  inadequate  protection  for  a  woman  who 
shares  grave  peril  with  them. 

"And  you'd  only  had  it  a  few  weeks,"  she  repeated. 

"What  does  it  matter  so  long  as  you  are  safe  ?"  Tra- 
herne  exclaimed  with  an  uncontrollable  impulse  that 
his  voice  betrayed  far  more  than  the  words  did.  It 
was  love-making,  his  tone,  and  the  woman  is  greatly 
loved  to  whom  a  strong  man  speaks  with  passionate 
tenderness  at  a  time  of  desperate  peril. 

Lucilla  threw  up  an  instant  barrier — for  his  pro 
tection,  not  for  her  own.  And  though  she  had  no 
fear  of  Antony — such  women  do  not  fear  the  men 
they  despise — she  had  intense  fear  of  the  shame  of 
what  he  might  say  might  cause  her — and  cause  Tra- 
herne. 

"What  does  it  matter  so  long  as  we're  all  safe?" 
she  said  quite  lightly,  almost  gayly. 

But  Antony  Crespin  had  caught  the  full  significance 
of  Traherne's  impulsive  words.  And,  "That's  not 
what  Traherne  said,"  he  jibed  bitterly.  "Why  pre 
tend  to  be  blind  to  his  chivalry?" 

Lucilla  Crespin  paled  with  anger,  Traherne  reddened 
with  regret.  He  knew  now  that  Crespin  knew,  and 
he  knew  that  he  had  tortured  him,  inflicting  a  needless 
pain — the  last  blunder  or  malpractice  any  true  physi 
cian  should  forgive  himself.  He  tried  to  laugh  it  off 
— knowing  how  poor  and  tepid  the  poultice  was. 

"Of  course  I'm  glad  you're  all  right,  Major,  and 
I'm  not  sorry  to  be  in  a  whole  skin  myself.  But 
ladies  first,  you  know." 

But  Crespin  would  not  be  balked.  "The  perfect 
knight  errant,  in  fact!"  he  snarled. 

"Decidedly  errant!"  Traherne  laughed.  He  had 
himself  well  in  hand  now,  and  he  meant  that  nothing 


100  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

should  betray  him  again.  It  was  enough  that  he  had 
brought  the  woman  into  such  acute  and  odious  peril; 
she  should  be  subjected  to  no  petty  annoyances  through 
him.  And  he  blamed  himself,  not  Crespin.  And 
Antony  Crespin  looked  murderous  now. 

"Won't  you  look  at  the  machine,  and  see  if  it's  quite 
hopeless  ?"  Mrs.  Crespin  urged,  and  the  look  she  gave 
was  both  an  imperious  command  and  an  entreaty. 

"Yes,"  Traherne  nodded,  "at  once."  And  he  went 
instantly,  went  towards  the  wreck  of  the  aeroplane, 
and  passed  out  of  sight  behind  the  rocks. 

It  is  difficult  for  the  Oriental  mind  to  believe  that 
a  man  of  a  race  other  than  theirs  is  braver  than  they 
— and  the  hillsmen  of  Central  Asia  have  little  cause 
to  believe  it.  The  bleached  man  was  going  back  to 
look  at  the  terrible  bird-beast ;  well,  they  would  go  too. 
If  the  thing  wounded  or  dead,  or  merely  resting  even, 
would  not  harm  him,  it  could  not  hurt  them.  He  was 
only  one,  they  were  many.  And  they  had  their  weap 
ons.  So  they  followed  in  the  wake  of  his  heels,  not 
following  too  closely,  not  crowding  upon  him  in  the 
least — but  they  followed — too  proud  to  show  the  ex 
citement  they  felt,  but  inwardly  quivering  with  curios 
ity — followed  as  close  as  their  grim  mountain  pride 
would  permit,  intent  upon  the  marvel  of  the  great 
air-beast. 

But  they  had  no  need  to  hush  their  words,  or  to  veil 
'their  interest.  Basil  Traherne  took  no  heed  of  them. 
He  stood  beside  his  ruined  toy  and  pride,  and  his 
hands  knotted,  and  so  did  his  throat.  His  mouth 
stiffened.  His  eyes  filled.  "What  does  it  matter?" 
he  had  said  to  the  woman;  and  there,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  absurd  temple,  with  his  eyes  on  her,  and 
her  eyes  on  his,  it  had  not  mattered  at  all.  But  it 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  101 

mattered  now.  It  mattered  terribly.  He  stood  and 
looked  down  on  his  comrade  and  dead,  and  he  was 
shaken  as  a  sailor  who  sees  his  ship  go  down  to  the 
deep,  as  a  soldier  who  holds  his  pistol  to  the  horse 
that  has  borne  him  in  many  a  battle,  and  still  nozzles 
its  master's  hand  while  the  blood  drips  and  clots  from 
the  panting  flank  the  enemy's  shell  has  disemboweled. 
His  poor  old  bus!  His  dear  old  bus!  For  the  first 
time  since  the  day  he'd  met  her  among  the  roses  of 
Kathleen  Agnew's  bamboo-shaded  garden  Lucilla  Cres- 
pin  was  nothing  to  him.  He  had  forgotten  her.  It  is 
like  that  with  men  at  such  moments.  And  the  women 
who  know  men  best  and  value  them  most,  resent  it  the 
least.  Very  wise  women  do  not  resent  it  at  all.  The 
sportsman  to  his  sport!  Such  men  make  the  staunch 
lovers,  when  love's  turn  comes. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  clustering  hillsmen  followed  Traherne,  but 
Yazok,  the  temple  priest,  did  not.     His  penance 
and  oblations  done  at  last,  he  stood  immovable,  his 
deep-set,  inimical  eyes  fixed,  cold  and  narrowed,  on 
Crespin  and  Lucilla. 

With  eyes  even  more  venomous  Major  Crespin 
watched  Traherne  out  of  sight.  Then  he  seated  him 
self  with  a  bulky,  determined  assertion  of  a  right — 
a  proprietor's  right — beside  his  wife  on  the  broad  flat 
stone. 

She  took  no  notice. 

"Well,  Lucilla!"  he  said.  There  was  insult  in  the 
tone,  and  there  was  pain  and  appeal.  The  insult  was 
veiled ;  the  pain  and  appeal  were  not.  But  the  woman 
heard  the  accusation,  and  was  deaf  to  the  cry. 

"Well?"  she  answered  indifferently,  and  without 
looking  at  him. 

He  fumbled  for  another  cigarette,  saying,  "That 
was  a  narrow  squeak!" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  still  more  indifferently. 
It  lashed  him  and  he  winced,  because  he  knew  that  her 
indifference  was  for  him,  and  not  for  the  accident  or 
for  their  plight,  and  because  he  thought  that  she  had 
meant  him  to  know  that  it  was.  Crespin  was  wrong 
there — she  did  not  care  whether  he  knew,  or  what  he 
knew,  and  she  cared  even  less  what  he  felt. 

"All's  well  that  ends  well,  eh?"  he  persisted,  look 
ing  at  her  ominously  through  gloomy,  blood-shot  eyes. 

"Of  course,"  she  said  listlessly. 
•102 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  103 

"You  don't  seem  very  grateful  to  Providence."  He 
would  not  leave  her  alone. 

"For  sending  the  fog?"  his  wife  returned  contemptu 
ously. 

"For  getting  us  down  safely — all  three,"  Crespin 
corrected  her,  with  a  significant  emphasis  on  the  last 
two  words. 

Lucilla  Crespin  took  the  gauntlet  up  then.  "It  was 
Dr.  Traherne's  nerve  that  did  that,"  she  told  him, 
looking  him  full  in  the  face.  He  had  been  watching 
her  narrowly,  hungrily  too,  all  the  time,  but  she  had 
not  given  him  a  glance  till  now.  "If  he  hadn't  kept 
his  head—" 

"We  should  have  crashed.  I  wish  to  God  we  had. 
One  or  other  of  us  would  probably  have  broken  his 
neck ;  and,  if  Providence  had  played  up,  it  might  have 
been  the  right  one." 

His  wife  swung  round  to  him  at  that,  as  they  sat, 
"What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  demanded. 

"It  might  have  been  me,"  he  told  her  in  a  harsh, 
smoldering  voice.  "Then  you'd  have  thanked  God 
right  enough!" 

The  woman  caught  the  insinuation  and  held  it 
squarely.  But  the  pain  and  the  prayer  she  did  not 
hear — or,  if  she  heard,  she  scorned  to  heed.  There 
is  no  other  mercilessness  so  hard  and  cold  as  that  of 
one  ultra  type  of  good  woman.  Lucilla  Crespin  was 
of  that  type — now.  Her  days  of  forgiveness  and  bend 
ing  had  passed — at  least  for  him.  Ancestry  had  so 
predisposed  her,  and  the  last  bad  years  had  frozen  it  in. 
Should  her  boy  live  to  sin  as  his  father  had  sinned, 
probably  the  flood-gates  of  understanding  and  pity 
would  open  again,  and  grief  and  womanliness  sweeten 
her  soul  again — but  never  again  for  the  man  beside 


104  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

her.  Had  her  heart  stirred  to  him  now,  far  as  he'd 
gone,  she  might  have  saved  and  remanned  him.  But 
her  heart  was  dead  to  him,  as  hard  and  unresponsive 
as  the  flint  on  which  they  sat. 

That  they  quarreled  here — for  it  'was  quarrel  bitter 
and  violent,  for  all  the  yearning  in  him,  for  all  her 
high-bred  self-control — that  they  could  quarrel  here, 
after  such  an  adventure  and  mishap  as  they  had  just 
shared,  in  the  thick  of  such  unfathomed  peril  as  they 
were  sharing,  showed  what  the  breach  between  them 
meant  to  them  both — despair  and  soul-damnation  to 
the  man,  love  and  comradeship  quite  dead  to  the  wo 
man.  It  was  hopeless — the  life-split  and  abyss,  or  else 
the  hours  they'd  just  come  through,  the  peril  they'd 
escaped,  the  less-known,  and  for  that  the  more  un 
nerving  peril  that  menaced  them  now  as  they  sat  side 
by  side  on  the  stone,  must  have  reunited  ancj.  reconciled 
them. 

Lucilla  Crespin  faced  her  husband  squarely,  more 
in  unveiled  contempt  than  in  courage  or  in  injured 
pride.  "Why,"  she  complained  impatiently,  "will  you 
talk  like  this,  Antony?  If  I  hadn't  sent  Dr.  Traherne 
away  just  now,  you'd  have  been  saying  these  things 
in  his  hearing." 

"Well,  why  not?"  Crespin  retorted  hotly.  "Don't 
tell  me  he  doesn't  know  all  about  the  'state  of  our  re 
lations,'  as  they  say  in  the  divorce  court." 

"If  he  does,  it's  not  from  me,"  the  wife  said  coldly, 
then  added  sourly:  "No  doubt  he  knows  what  the 
whole  station  knows." 

What  the  whole  station  knew !  Aye,  there  was  the 
rub — the  blistering  rub  to  her  woman's  pride  and 
shame,  the  galling,  smarting  rub  to  the  man's.  How 
often  life's  chasms  could  be  bridged,  even  its  cess- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  105 

pools  purged  and  sweetened,  if  only  no  others  knew. 
Lucilla  said  it  not  unnastily,  all  the  more  so  for  the 
high-bred  quality  of  civility  and  self-control  with  which 
she  spoke.  A  husband's  faults — not  even  the  unbear 
able  fault  of  infidelity — never  in  themselves  bear  on  a 
woman  so  crushingly  and  painfully  as  does  having 
others  know  of  them.  For  a  husband's  sins  and  malo 
dorous  peccadilloes  are  the  damnable  hall-mark  of  a 
wife's  failure,  branded  on  her  soul  and  her  flesh  in  a 
festering  sore  that  never  heals,  and  that  all  can  see. 
Thousands  of  women  go  to  the  scaffold  of  the  divorce 
court  because  what  others  know  compels  them.  Lu 
cilla  Crespin  knew  what  it  had  cost  her  that  the  whole 
station  knew,  but  she  gave  no  thought  at  all  to  what 
it  had  cost  Antony.  Only  the  highest  souls  realize 
and  accept  that  he  who  sins  is  far  more  to  be  pitied, 
aye,  and  loved,  if  love  is  what  the  highest  human  pas 
sion  should  be,  than  is  the  one  against  whom  the  sinner 
has  sinned. 

"And  what  does  the  whole  station  know?"  Crespin 
demanded.  His  eyes  blazed  through  their  blear,  and 
the  hand  on  his  knee  trembled.  "What  does  the  whole 
station  know  ?  Why,  that  your  deadly  coldness  drives 
me  to  drink!"  His  voice  broke  just  a  little.  "I've  lived 
for  three  years  in  an  infernal  clammy  fog  like  that 
we've  passed  through.  Who's  to  blame  if  I  take  a 
whiskey  peg  now  and  then,  to  keep  the  chill  out? 
Who?" 

"Oh,  Antony,  why  go  over  it  all  again?"  She  half 
rose,  and  then,  as  if  it  were  not  worth  while  to  move, 
sank  back  as  she'd  been.  "You  know  very  well  it 
was  drink — and  other  things — that  came  between  us; 
not  my  coldness,  as  you  call  it,  that  drove  you  to 
drink." 


106  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"Oh,"  Crespin  cried  in  a  rasping  voice,  "you  good 
women !  You  patter  after  the  parson,  'Forgive  us  as 
we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us/  But  you 
don't  know  what  forgiveness  means.  'Plaster  saints' 
every  one  of  you,  your  vaunted  Christianity  to  be 
shattered  at  the  first  hammer-tap  of  what  you  don't 
like.  Blind  to  every  fault  of  your  own,  fiendish  and 
merciless  to  every  fault  of  another,  if  it  happens  to 
nick  you  on  your  own  petty  raw.  Damn  such  'good 
women/  I  say.  You'll  make  a  fine  show  on  Judgment 
Day  when  you  file  up  one  by  one  to  have  your  sins 
forgiven  even  as  you  have  forgiven  us  poor  rotten 
scum  that  have  trespassed  against  you.  You — you 
don't  know  your  own  faults,  I  tell  you.  You  take 
them  for  virtues,  even  when  they  smell  to  heaven. 
You  have  no  faults,  you,  you  scourgers  of  others,  not 
a  fault  of  your  own.  Forgiveness!  You  don't  know 
what  it  means.  You're  not  fit  to  know!" 

Never  had  Antony  Crespin  spoken  to  her  so  before. 
The  force  of  his  terrible  passion  reached  her,  but  not 
its  meaning.  She  heard  the  storm,  and  she  saw  its 
wreck :  knotting  muscles,  quivering  nostrils,  wild,  ago 
nized  eyes.  But  its  pathos  never  reached  her.  He 
cried  out  to  her  for  bread — new,  clean,  white  bread, 
and  she  pitched  a  stone  of  contempt  into  his  out 
stretched  hand.  Perhaps,  if  Basil  Traherne  had  not 
been  there  behind  the  rock — perhaps,  if  she  and  Tra 
herne  had  never  met — Antony  Crespin's  wife  might 
have  heard  his  appeal  and  responded  to  it  in  his  hour 
of  utmost  need,  utmost  abasement — for  that  was  what 
his  outburst  of  rage  and  accusation  was:  shame,  long 
ing,  the  old,  old  cry  for  one  more  chance. 

But  Lucilla  was  dead  now  to  any  need  or  appeal 
of  his.  Well,  he  had  earned  it.  Alas,  for  life's 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  107 

heaviest  tragedy — we  usually  have.  We  earn  what  we 
get — most  of  us — and,  sweet  heaven  help  us !  we  get  it. 
God  does  not  always  pay  on  Saturday — but  He  pays. 

Mrs.  Crespin,  her  eyes  strained  for  what  might  come 
from  the  Raja's  castle,  her  ears  strained  to  catch  Tra- 
herne's  returning  footsteps,  answered  his  words,  but 
only  his  words. 

"What's  the  use  of  it,  Antony?"  she  said  drearily. 
"Forgive?  I  have  forgiven  you.  I  don't  try  to  take 
the  children  from  you,  though  it  might  be  better  for 
them  if  I  did.  But  to  forgive  is  one  thing,  to  forget 
another.  When  a  woman  has  seen  a  man  behave  as 
you  have  behaved,  do  you  think  it  is  possible  for  her 
to  forget  it,  and  to  love  afresh?  There  are  women  in 
novels,  and  perhaps  in  the  slums,  who  have  such  short 
memories;  but  I  am  not  one  of  them." 

"No,  by  God,  you're  not!"  And  at  the  passion  in 
ihe  Englishman's  voice,  Yazok  the  priest,  still  watching 
them  steadily,  moved  a  little.  "So  a  whole  man's  life 
is  to  be  ruined — " 

"Do  you  think  yours  is  the  only  life  to  be  ruined?" 
She,  too,  moved  as  she  spoke,  and  left  an  inch  or  two 
more  space  between  them  on  the  stone  where  they  both 
Still  sat,  Crespin  too  shaken  to  rise,  she  too  indifferent. 

He  had  forgotten  where  they  were,  forgotten  their 
danger  even.  The  woman  had  not.  She  thrust  her 
chin  in  her  palms,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and 
searched  the  path  to  the  castle  with  anxious  eyes.  Her 
nerves  were  aching  now  with  the  strain  of  delay  and 
uncertainty,  and  because  her  nerves  ached  so,  she 
prodded  back  at  him  again  with  her  vicious  question, 
viciously  asked,  "Do  you  think  yours  is  the  only  life 
to  be  ruined  ?" 

Crespin  crouched  over  towards  her  like  some  jungle 


108  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

beast  crouching  to  spring.  "Ah !"  he  snapped.  "There 
we  have  it !  I've  not  only  offended  your  sensibilities  ; 
I'm  in  your  way.  You  love  this  other  man,  this  model 
of  all  the  virtues !" 

His  wife  made  no  pretense  of  not  understanding 
him.  "You  have  no  right  to  say  that,"  she  said  simply. 

Crespin  disregarded  her  protest — if  it  was  protest 
she  had  deigned  to  make — as  he  must  have  disregarded 
any  interruption  now  that  was  less  than  some  yielding, 
some  warming  of  hers. 

"He's  a  paragon !"  he  pounded  on.  "He's  a  wonder ! 
He's  a  mighty  microbe-killer  before  the  Lord ;  he's  go 
ing  to  work  heaven  knows  what  miracles,  only  he  hasn't 
brought  them  off  yet.  Arid  you're  cursing  the  mistake 
you  made  in  marrying  a  poor  devil  of  a  soldier-man 
instead  of  a  first-class  scientific  genius.  Come !  Make 
a  clean  breast  of  it!  You  may  as  well!" 

One  word  from  her — just  one  word  of  denial — 
would  have  healed  and  helped  him,  and  she  knew,  at 
least,  that  it  would  have  slaked  his  angry  fever.  But 
she  did  not  give  that  cup  of  cold  water;  perhaps  be 
cause  she  held  truth  too  sacred — the  virtues  are  an 
almost  supreme  asset,  but  they  can  be  terribly  cruel, 
and  they  should  not  be  made  of  cast-iron — perhaps 
because  she  had  for  him  too  little  kindness  left. 

"Come  on,  Lu,"  he  urged.     "Tell  me.     Do." 

"I  have  nothing  to  answer,"  she  returned  without 
troubling  to  look  at  him  even.  "While  I  continue  to 
live  with  you,  I  owe  you  an  account  of  my  actions — : 
but  not  of  my  thoughts." 

"Your  actions?  Oh,  I  know  very  well  you're  too 
cold — too  damned  respectable — to  kick  over  the  traces. 
And  then  you  have  the  children  to  think  of." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  109 

"Yes,"  the  wife  said  sadly.  "I  have  the  children 
to  think  of.  I  have  the  children." 

"Besides,"  Crespin  went  on,  torturing  himself,  which 
is  the  success  that  often  crowns  our  efforts  to  torture 
others,  "there's  no  hurry.  If  you  only  have  patience 
for  a  year  or  two,  I'll  do  the  right  thing  for  once,  and 
drink  myself  to  death." 

A  year  or  two  more  of  his  cups!  That  would  be 
hard  and  long  to  bear.  Again  and  again  she  had  felt 
that  she  had  reached  her  tether's  taut-pulled  length — 
and  then  again  and  again  she  had  tried  once  more. 
Why  was  Traherne  so  long?  She  had  asked  him  to 
look  at  the  crashed  aeroplane,  not  to  build  a  new  one. 
Or,  was  it  possible,  the  wreck  was  less  hopeless  than 
he'd  thought,  and  already  he  was  seeing  a  way  to  patch 
and  repair  ?  When  would  some  word  or  move  be  made 
from  the  great  sullen  castle-place,  with  its  gray  turrets 
and  scalloped  arches  turning  to  silver  and  pink  now  as 
the  Asian  sun  slipped  down  the  sapphire  sky?  A  year 
or  two  more !  And  the  children,  still  babies  of  course, 
were  growing  so.  What  might  not  Ronny  notice  and 
understand  in  another  two  years?  Two  years  more! 
She  never  had  measured  before  in  her  mind  the  prob 
able  stretch  of  the  bad  time  still  before  her — and  only 
for  one  instant  did  the  thought  come  to  her  now — and 
Antony  himself  had  put  it  there.  His  death  was  the 
one  way  out  she  never  had  thought  of.  And  she  would 
not  think  of  it  now.  And  even  she  spoke  a  little  more 
kindly  than  she  had  done  for  some  time — at  least  when 
they  had  been  alone — and  she  turned  and  looked  at  him 
with  almost;  a  friendly  look  in  her  eyes,  as  she  said : 

"You  have  only  to  keep  yourself  a  little  in  hand  to 
live  to  what  they  call  'a  good  old  age.' ' 


110  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  friendliness  in  her  eyes  maddened  him  anew — 
it  was  not  her  friendship  he  wanted — but  even  so  he 
was  grateful  for  it,  it  was  so  much  better  than  nothing 
to  go  on  with — and  he  pressed  his  hurt  and  anger  out 
of  sight,  and,  leaning  away  from  her  the  better  to  watch 
her  face,  said  slowly : 

1  'Pon  my  soul,  I've  a  mind  to  try  to,  though  good 
ness  knows,  my  life  is  not  worth  living,"  for  he  had 
caught  the  distraction  on  her  face;  she  was  listening, 
but  not  most  to  him.  "I  was  a  fool  to  come  on  this 
crazy  expedition " 

"Why,  it  was  yourself  that  jumped  at  Dr.  Traherne's 
proposal,"  his  wife  reminded  him. 

"I  thought  we'd  get  to  the  kiddies  a  week  earlier. 
They'd  be  glad  to  see  me,  poor  little  things.  They  don't 
despise  their  daddy." 

Something  of  what  he  felt,  something  of  what  he 
still  was — in  spite  of  whatever  he'd  done — reached  An 
tony  Crespin's  wife  then.  He  had  always  loved  his 
children — there  was  no  doubt  of  that.  It  had  not 
served  him  for  strength  enough,  even  as  his  love  of 
her  had  not,  but  he  always  had  loved  them,  invariably 
he  had  been  tender  to  them.  And  Lucilla  remembered 
it  now. 

"It  shan't  be  my  fault,  Antony,"  she  told  him  gently, 
"if  they  ever  do."  And  then  she  spoilt  it,  soured  the 
grace  she  had  shown,  by  adding  with  a  weary  sigh, 
"But  you  don't  make  it  easy  to  keep  up  appearances." 
O  curse  of  woman's  tongue ! 

Antony  Crespin  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  before 
her.  He  saw  the  natives  clustered  just  .over  there, 
screening  the  projecting  wing  of  the  broken  aeroplane; 
he  saw  Yazok  watching,  sentineling  too,  perhaps;  he 
saw  the  great  puissant  fortified  castle,  he  recalled  where 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  111 

they  were,  he  knew  their  peril — but  for  all  that,  for  all 
that  or  more,  he  gave  not  one  damn.  .  .  .  He  stood 
there  before  her,  alone  in  the  world  with  his  wife,  all 
his  imperfections  on  his  back,  and  put  up  his  plea. 

"Oh,  Lu,  Lu,"  he  begged,  "if  you  would  treat  me 
like  a  human  being — if  you  would  help  me,  and  make 
life  tolerable  for  me,  instead  of  a  thing  that  won't  bear 
looking  at  except  through  the  haze  of  drink — we  might 
retrieve  the  early  days.  'God  knows  I  never  cared  two 
pins  for  any  woman  but  you " 

It  was  the  acutest  moment  of  Antony  Crespin's  life. 
'And  his  wife  turned  him  down. 

"No,"  she  said,  "the  others,  I  suppose,  only  helped 
you,  like  whiskey,  to  see  the  world  through  a  haze.  I 
saw  the  world  through  a  haze  when  I  married  you ;  but 
you  have  dispelled  it  once  for  all."  She  saw  his  face 
blanch,  she  saw  his  fingers  knot,  she  saw  his  shoulders 
sag ;  but  she  went  on.  "Don't  force  me  to  tell  you  how 
impossible  it  is  for  me  to  be  your  wife  again.  I  am 
the  mother  of  your  children — that  gives  you  a  terrible 
hold  over  me.  Be  content  with  that." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

,  Mrs.  Crespin,"  Traherne  called  before  they 
saw  him  clambering  down  from  the  rocks  where 
the  ruined  bus  lay.  "I've  found,"  he  called  as  he  came 
in  sight,  "in  the  wreck  the  newspaper  you  spoke  of — 
you  were  right  about  Rukh." 

Major  Crespin  pulled  himself  up  roundly,  he  was  not 
of  the  breed  to  show  his  hurt  to  the  other  man.  "What 
does  it  say?"  he  asked  briskly,  as  Traherne  came  up  to 
them  with  the  paper  in  his  hand. 

Traherne  unfolded  it,  found  the  place,  and  read, 
"  'Abdulabad,  Tuesday.  Sentence  of  death  has  been 
passed  on  the  three  men  found  guilty  of  the  murder  of 
Mr.  Haredale.  It  appears  that  these  miscreants  are 
natives  of  Rukh,  a  small  and  little-known  independent 
state  among  the  northern  spurs  of  the  Himalayas/  ' 

"Yes,"  Lucilla  nodded,  "that's  what  I  read." 

"This  news  isn't  the  best  possible  passport  for  us  in 
our  present  situation,"  Traherne  said  gravely,  and  his 
face  was  graver  than  his  words. 

"But,"  Mrs.  Crespin  protested  reassuringly,  "if  we're 
hundreds  of  miles  from  anywhere,  it  can't  be  known 
here  yet." 

"One  would  think  not,"  Traherne  assented. 

"In  any  case,  they  wouldn't  dare  to  molest  us,"  Major 
Crespin  said  nonchalantly  across  the  fresh  cigarette  he 
was  lighting. 

Traherne  shot  him  a  sharp  look.  Did  Crespin  for 
one  moment  believe  that  ?  Or  was  he  trying  to  reassure 
his  wife?  The  latter  no  doubt,  Traherne  concluded. 

112 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  113 

"All  the  same,"  the  physician  said — and  following 
Crespin's  lead  by  saying  it  lightly,  "it  might  be  safest 
to  burn  this  paragraph,  in  case  there's  anybody  here 
that  can  read  it."  And  he  suited  action  to  words,  light 
ing  at  Crespin's  cigarette  the  strip  of  paper  he  tore  out 
carefully,  watching  it  burn  until  it  licked  at  his  fingers, 
and  he  had  to  drop  the  flaming  fragment.  But  he 
watched  it  burn  to  the  last  ash,  and  then  stamped  upon 
that.  Lucilla  watched  it  too — they  all  did,  and  Yazok 
the  priest  watched  most  intently  of  all. 

Mrs.  Crespin  held  out  her  hand  for  the  rest  of  the 
newspaper,  and  when  Traherne  gave  it  she  went  and 
put  it  with  her  leather  coat  where  it  lay  on  a  rock  as 
Traherne  had  placed  it. 

"Hullo !"    Crespin  held  up  a  hand. 

Strange  ululations,  mingled  with  the  throb  of  tom 
toms  and  the  clash  of  cymbals  were  faintly  heard  from 
the  distance — faint,  but  growing  clearer  and  clearer, 
from  the  mountain-path  up  which  the  runner  had  sped 
at  the  priest's  command. 

"Hullo!"  the  Major  repeated.     "What's  this?" 

"Sounds  like  the  march  of  the  Great  Panjandrum," 
Traherne  murmured. 

It  certainly  did;  and  it  looked  even  more  than  it 
sounded,  when  it  swept  and  pranced  into  sight. 

The  natives  all  ran  to  the  point  where  the  path  de 
bouched  on  the  open  space.  All  their  lives  they  had  seen 
their  Raja  come,  as  had  their  fathers,  and  theirs  before 
them,  and  as  often  as  not  keeping  just  such  state,  but 
they  never  tired  of  the  spectacle,  and  it  never  failed  to 
move  them.  The  rustle  of  satisfaction  which  is  the 
Oriental  equivalent  of  our  "loud  cheering,"  and,  by  the 
way,  very  much  more  eloquent,  swept  through  them 
like  a  gust  of  gentle  wind  in  a  field  of  well-ripe  corn ; 


114  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

then,  as  their  prince  came  nearer,  they  prostrated  them 
selves  on  each  side  of  his  way.  They  were  delighted  to 
see  him,  and  exquisitely  proud  of  his  gorgeous  and 
noised  display,  but  not  a  face  relaxed,  all  were  in 
ordinately  grave,  as  too  were  the  harlequin  mobbery 
that  preceded  and  followed  his  litter.  Except  in 
China  and  Burmah,  merriment  is  not  the  Asian's  idea 
of  enjoyment,  and  very  rarely  its  expression.  Even 
the  babies  are  grave.  But,  for  all  that,  the  tatter 
demalion  Rukh  populace  were  enjoying  themselves 
intensely. 

It  was  a  wild  procession  that  came  down  the  moun 
tain  path.  A  gigantic  negro,  flourishing  two  great 
naked  sabers,  and  gyrating  in  a  barbaric  war-dance, 
headed  it.  His  sole  garment  was  a  tiger's  skin  slung 
over  one  shoulder  and  falling  apron-wise  over  one 
breast  down  to  a  little  below  his  waist,  his  sole  orna 
ment  a  wide  head-band  of  brass  in  which  one  great  red 
stone  burned.  Six  music-men  followed  him,  beating 
their  tom-toms  and  clashing  their  cymbals  till  the  very 
air  winced.  They  wore  less  than  the  ebon  major-domo 
did,  but  what  their  crimson  loin  cloths  lacked  in  quan 
tity  they  made  up  in  color,  and  they  were  flaked  with 
chips  of  purple,  green  and  yellow  glass,  and  the  musi 
cians'  great,  sinewy  arms  were  hung  with  bells.  And 
most  of  the  runners  who  padded  lightly  behind  them 
tinkled  too  as  they  walked.  The  short-distance  run 
ners,  sent  only  about  the  capital  itself,  to  and  fro  from 
the  palace  on  the  Raja's  errands,  wore  no  bells,  but  the 
many  more  who  were  sent  all  over  the  kingdom,  and 
even  beyond  it,  each  wore  many  tiny  but  noisy  bells; 
for  all  Asia  knows  that  wild  beasts  fear  the  sound  of 
bells  as  they  fear  nothing  else,  and  will  flee  from  the 


path  of  the  panting  runner  who  tinkles  and  rings  as  he 
goes. 

A  half  score  of  men,  clad  to  their  heels  in  spotless 
flowing  white,  each  with  a  flat  hat  with  wide,  tightly 
rolled  brim,  each  hat  of  a  different  costly  brocade,  came 
next,  and  close  behind  them  was  carried  the  Raja's  pa 
lanquin.  It  looked  something  like  a  Chinese  bride-chair, 
but  its  gauze-hung  sides  were  not  opaque;  it  looked 
something  like  a  Burmese  pagoda,  for  its  gilded,  pointed 
roof  rose  above  it  on  much  the  same  lines  as  does  the 
great  pile  at  Mulmien.  It  looked  a  little  like  a  high-car 
ried  boat ;  and  not  a  little  like  a  grotesque  howdah,  one 
corner  of  its  canopy-roof  upheld  by  a  glittering,  bright 
blue  monkey,  one  by  a  writhing  green-eyed  vermilion 
snake,  one  by  a  twisted  white  and  pink  pelican,  the  other 
by  an  elaborate  square  pillar  of  sandal-wood,  whose 
carvings  simulated  bamboos  and  tulips.  It  looked  some 
thing  like  a  super  pantomime-chair;  and  it  looked,  as 
it  was,  a  thing  of  great  cost,  and  of  the  almost  life 
long  labor  of  many  skilled  and  patient  craftsmen. 

The  seated  figure  inside  it  showed  but  indistinctly 
through  the  gauzy  film  of  the  litter's  curtains ;  a  human 
figure  undoubtedly,  and  in  perfect  repose,  but  instinct 
with  power — a  blur  of  turquoise  and  rose,  of  helio 
trope  and  saffron,  of  silk  and  satin  and  tinsel  and  gems. 
Immediately  behind  him  came  the  strangest  sight  in 
Rukh — an  English  valet,  if  ever  one  was  in  May  fair 
— an  immaculate,  demure,  correct  valet  who  might 
have  strolled  into  the  picture  from  St.  James  Street, 
and  as  unmoved,  detached  and  imperturbable  there  in 
the  Eastern  glare  and  din  as  if  the  gyrating  negro  had 
been  a  white-gloved  constable  on  point-duty,  the  pros 
trate  half-naked  crowd  a  well-dressed,  leisurely  melee 


116  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

of  shoppers,  or  just  come  from  Burlington  House,  and 
the  musicians  before  and  the  guards  and  rabble  behind 
buses  and  taxis  on  Piccadilly  and  Albemarle  Street. 

Behind  Watkins,  for  his  name  was  as  English  as  his 
coat,  came  the  Raja's  bodyguard,  or  a  considerable 
detachment  of  it — grim-faced,  high-cheeked  men  of  all 
heights  and  shapes,  dressed  in  the  most  fantastic  and 
parti-colored  attire  that  men-at-arms  ever  wore  yet: 
short  sleeveless  jackets  of  velvet,  jackets  of  silk  that 
were  all  sleeves,  pleated  petticoats  of  chintz  and  of 
shantung  silk,  trousers  of  red  and  yellow  woolens,  bare 
brown,  hairy  legs,  and  legs  spiraled  with  puttee-like 
twistings,  some  of  exquisite  embroideries,  some  of 
time-tarnished  rags.  Some  wore  upturned-toed  san 
dals,  some  were  shod  but  with  studs  on  their  toes  or  a 
ring  of  jade  on  one  ankle  or  on  both.  One  wore  a 
helmet,  one  carried  an  umbrella,  several  wore  caps — 
caps  made  of  fur,  of  brocade  or  of  sheer  white 
"chicken-work" —  one  bare  head  was  perfectly  bald, 
one  wore  a  dancing  mop  of  densely  oiled  corkscrew 
curls.  Several  wore  long  chains  of  barbaric  beads  that 
clacked  as  they  moved,  one  wore  a  collar  of  glass-jew 
eled  tin ;  two  were  turbaned.  All  were  armed  with  an 
tique  match-locks,  some  of  them  with  barrels  six  or 
seven  feet  long ;  and  one  carried  a  tame,  monster-sized 
rat  on  his  naked  shoulder,  and  three  had  marigolds 
stuck  behind  their  ears,  which  was  where  two  carried 
cheroots.  Six  boys,  wearing  long  yellow  skirts  but 
nothing  above  them,  brought  up  the  rear.  Two  carried 
big,  squat,  lighted  braziers,  lest  even  in  this  heat  their 
lord  be  cold ;  four,  lest  he  be  warm,  carried  huge  long- 
handled  fans  of  peacocks'  feathers  and  others  of  glass- 
sprinkled  braided  sweetgrass. 

The  bearers  put  the  litter  down  deferentially,  directly 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  117 

in  front  of  the  temple,  and  knelt  down  behind  it  with 
their  faces  to  the  ground. 

Lucilla  Crespin,  for  all  her  anxiety,  wanted  to  laugh 
at  this  raree-show.  She'd  seen  it  done  better  at  a 
Drury  Lane  pantomime! 

But  Crespin  and  Traherne  had  less  impulse  to  laugh, 
or  to  smile.  They  suspected  something  of  the  strength 
that  might  lurk  in  the  tigerish  claws  underneath  the 
ridiculous  gloves  of  tinsel. 

The  man  in  Bond  Street  clothes  came  at  once,  with 
a  padded,  cat-like  tread  to  the  side  of  the  resting  litter, 
parted  its  curtains,  and  held  down  obsequiously  a 
crooked  broadcloth  arm  through  which,  as  it  rose,  the 
seated  figure  put  a  slim  brown  hand. 

The  Raja  stepped  out,  released  his  servitor's  arm, 
and  made  just  a  step  towards  the  three  Europeans, 
scanning  the  men  lightly  and  in  silence — not  seeming  to 
see  Mrs.  Crespin. 

He  was  tall,  well-built,  about  forty,  Traherne 
thought,  and  the  two  Englishmen  knew  from  his  jewels 
that,  whatever  his  people  were,  the  Raja  of  Rukh  was 
fabulously  rich.  His  diamonds  were  good — the  big  blue 
one  that  winked  on  his  forehead  were  hard  to  match 
anywhere;  his  emeralds  were  fine — they  lay,  a  green, 
snake-like  rope,  on  his  richly  furred,  coral  and  jewel 
buttoned  satin  coat,  and  cascaded  down  to  the  knees 
of  his  wide  velvet  trousers ;  the  aigrette  in  his  cap-like 
turban  was  worth  a  great  deal,  and  it  must  have  plumed 
the  head  of  a  wonderfully  virile  bird,  or  else  have  been 
marvelously  wired,  for  its  every  delicate  thread  stood 
erect  in  spite  of  the  jewel  that  topped  and  weighted  it ; 
and  the  great  turquoise  from  which  it  rose  was  almost 
a  plaque.  The  princely  shoes  were  a  blaze  of  gems, 
one  blue  with  sapphires,  one  red  as  a  pigeon's  blood 


118  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

with  rubies  finer  than  Burmah  ever  quarries.  But  all 
this  was  little  to  the  pearls.  Tassels  of  pearls  hung 
from  his  ears  and  his  sleeves  and  their  cuffs.  Seven 
great  ropes  of  pearls  hung  about  his  neck  and  over  his 
shoulders — pearls  such  as  Europe  does  not  see  over- 
often,  and  never  in  such  quantities;  one  rope  fell  below 
his  long-skirted  coat  almost  to  his  trousers'  hern,  one 
shorter  strand  was  of  pink  pearls  perfectly  matched;  a 
necklace  of  "black"  pearls  lay  gray  and  soft  across  the 
breast  of  his  turquoise  blue  coat,  and  from  it  hung  one 
huge  pear-shaped  pearl  so  radiantly  pink  that  it  almost 
looked  red  as  it  touched  the  milk-white  pearls  below  it 
— and  every  pearl  of  the  many  hundreds  gleamed  with 
the  rainbow-burnish  that  some  pigeons  show  on  their 
jeweled  necks. 

The  Raja's  face  was  intelligent,  his  hands  were  beau 
tiful,  his  tiny  mustache  had  a  silken  look  of  Paris,  his 
eyes  were  dark  and  inscrutable. 

Mrs.  Crespin  thought  him  ridiculous,  outrageously 
"trapped  out"  for  even  an  uncivilized  man.  Antony 
Crespin,  with  the  British  soldier-man's  impenetrable 
insularity,  set  him  down  "a  hell  of  a  nigger — what." 
But  Basil  Traherne,  skilled  in  faces,  in  human  frames 
and  in  gaits,  thought  that  the  Raja  of  Rukh  had  char 
acter  and  distinct  and  polished  personality. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  Raja  waited,  cool,  courteous  and  quite  non 
committal.  And  after  an  instant  Crespin  ad 
vanced  and  saluted. 

The  Eastern  inclined  his  head — did  it  so  slightly  that 
it  accorded  permission  rather  than  returned  or  gave 
salutation.  He  was  dignified,  and  he  was  not  ridicu 
lous,  Traherne  thought,  for  all  his  satins  and  silks  and 
glut  of  hanging  jewels,  as  he  stood  there  in  front  of  his 
temple  where  the  goats'  heads  still  dripped  sacrificial 
red,  and  his  people  about  him. 

"Does  Your  Highness  speak  English?"  Crespin 
asked  rather  desperately — with  almost  a  superior  edge 
to  his  voice. 

"Oh,  yes,  a  little,"  the  Rukh  said  in  English  as 
English  as  Crespin's  own  and  in  an  accent  even  a  little 
more  irreproachable. 

Crespin  pulled  himself  together  instantly,  and  said, 
speaking  like  a  soldier  and  a  man  of  breeding,  "Then 
I  have  to  apologize  for  our  landing  uninvited  in  your 
territory." 

"Uninvited;  but  I  assure  you  not  unwelcome."  The 
inclination  of  the  be  jeweled  head  was  just  a  trifle  more 
this  time. 

"We  are  given  to  understand,"  the  soldier  went  on, 
"that  this  is  the  State  of  Rukh." 

Just  a  hinted  shadow  of  a  smile  touched  the  Raja's 
fine  lips — a  smile  in  little  akin  to  the  twitch  or  grimace 
that  does  the  West  for  smiling,  but  a  half-flicker  that 
sometimes  falls  for  a  moment  on  high-bred  Eastern 

119 


120  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

faces,  just  touching  the  mouth,  but  not  made  by  it. 
"The  Kingdom  of  Rukh,"  the  Raja  said  smoothly. 
"Major — if  I  rightly  read  the  symbols  on  your  cuff — " 

"Major  Crespin,"  Antony  stated,  saluting  again. 
"Permit  me  to  introduce  my  wife." 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  saw  Mrs.  Crespin  for  the  first 
time — apparently.  He  salaamed  profoundly,  his  obei 
sance  to  her  as  immediate  and  deep  as  his  bend  of  the 
head  to  her  husband  had  been  slow  and  perfunctory. 
"I  am  delighted,  Madam,"  he  told  her,  "to  welcome 
you  to  my  secluded  dominions.  You  are  the  first  lady 
of  your  nation  I  have  had  the  honor  of  receiving." 

"Your  Highness  is  very  kind,"  Mrs.  Crespin  said, 
rising — Traherne  was  glad  that  she  did  that — and 
taking  a  half-step  towards  the  glittering  figure. 

"And  this,"  Crespin  gestured,  "is  Dr.  Basil  Traherne, 
whose  aeroplane— or  what  is  left  of  it — you  see." 

The  Raja  smiled,  more  widely,  more  genially  this 
time,  and  he  and  Traherne  exchanged  a  direct,  level 
look.  "Dr.  Traherne?  The  Doctor  Traherne  whose 
name  I  have  so  often  seen  in  the  newspaper?  The 
Pasteur  of  Malaria  ?" 

So  this  unexpected  barbarian  read  the  Statesman  and 
the  Pioneer!  But  of  course,  speaking  the  English  he 
did,  he  would. 

"The  newspapers  make  too  much  of  my  work,"  Tra 
herne  disallowed.  "It  is  very  incomplete." 

"Rome  was  not  built  in  a  day,"  the  Raja  laughed, 
"or  the  Taj.  But  you  are  an  aviator  as  well." 

"Only  as  an  amateur,"  Traherne  insisted. 

The  Raja  let  that  pass.  "I  presume  it  is  some  mis 
adventure — a  most  fortunate  misadventure  for  me — 
that  has  carried  you  so  far  into  the  wilds  beyond  the 
Himalayas?" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  121 

"Yes,"  Traherne  assented  ruefully.  "We  got  lost  in 
the  clouds.  Major  and  Mrs.  Crespin  were  coming  up 
from  the  plains  to  see  their  children  at  a  hill  station — " 

"Pahari,  no  doubt?" 

"Yes,  Pahari — and  I  was  rash  enough  to  suggest  that 
I  might  save  them  three  days'  traveling,  by  taking  them 
up  in  my  aeroplane." 

"Madam  is  a  sportswoman,  then  ?"  The  Raja  turned 
to  Lucilla. 

"Oh,  I  have  been  up  many  times,"  she  replied. 

"Yes,"  Crespin  said  with  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  under 
the  words,  "many  times." 

If  Lucilla  caught  it,  she  gave  no  sign,  and  did  not 
let  it  serve  to  swerve  her  from  the  subject.  "It  was 
no  fault  of  Dr.  Traherne' s  that  we  went  astray,"  she 
told  the  Raja.  "The  weather  was  impossible." 

A  smile  of  a  new  significance  came  in  the  narrow 
black  eyes,  but  was  not  allowed  to  touch  his  lips. 
"Well,"  he  said  amusedly,  "you  have  made  a  sensation 
here,  I  can  assure  you.  My  people  have  never  seen  an 
aeroplane.  They  are  not  sure,  simple  souls" — he  was 
laughing  at  them  but  there  was  affection  in  it,  Tra 
herne  thought — "whether  you  are  gods  or  demons. 
But  the  fact  of  your  having  descended  in  the  precincts 
of  a  temple  of  our  local  goddess" — he  motioned  his 
hand  towards  the  idol — "allow  me  to  introduce  you  to 
her — is  considered  highly  significant." 

Traherne  noted  that  he  introduced  them  to  the  Green 
Goddess,  and  not  her  to  them,  and  he  wondered  if  this 
mam  with  his  priceless  gew-gaws,  his  cosmopolitan 
breeding  and  information,  his  countless  centuries  of 
Eastern  ancestry,  were  as  apart  from  the  beliefs  and 
idolatrous  superstitions  of  his  uncouth  people  as  his 
words  and  light  tone  implied.  Well,  he  would  to 


122  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

heaven  they  could  cut  all  this  useless  talk,  and  get  down 
to  the  real  issue  now.  Their  fate  still  hung  in  the 
balance — his  and  Crespin's — and  Lucilla's.  It  was  not 
a  comfortable  feeling.  It  was  very  far  from  a  com 
fortable  situation.  And  he  knew  how  scrupulous  the 
politeness  of  an  Oriental  foe-to-the-death  could  be. 
3ut  he  knew  too  that  they  must  bide  this  Raja  man's 
time  and  tune. 

Antony  Crespin  knew  it  too,  and  Lucilla  had  the  wit 
to  take  her  cue  from  them.  But  Crespin  glanced  at  the 
lowering  sun,  and  ventured,  "I  hope,  sir,  that  we  shall 
find  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  transport  back  to  civ — 
to  India." 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  smiled  openly  then,  and  his  smile 
was  frank  and  very  sweet.  "To  civilization,  you  were 
going  to  say  ?  Why  hesitate,  my  dear  sir  ?  We  know 
very  well  that  we  are  barbarians.  We  are  quite  recon 
ciled  to  the  fact.  We  have  had  some  five  thousand 
years  to  accustom  ourselves  to  it.  This  sword — "  he 
laid  a  hand  lightly  on  his  carved  and  jeweled  scimitar 
• — "is  a  barbarous  weapon  compared  with  your  revolver; 
but  it  was  worn  by  my  ancestors  when  yours  were 
daubing  themselves  blue,  and  picking  up  a  precarious 
livelihood  in  the  woods."  He  said  it  in  the  friendliest 
way,  and  broke  off  abruptly,  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Cres 
pin,  "But  Madam  is  standing  all  this  time!"  he  ex 
claimed  in  dismay.  "Watkins,  what  are  you  thinking 
of?  Some  cushions!" 

Watkins  made  no  reply,  and  his  well-trained  face  did 
not  change,  but  he  took  several  cushions  from  his  mas 
ter's  litter,  and  came  sleekly  forward,  and  piled  them 
into  a  seat  for  her. 

"Another  litter  for  Madam,  and  mountain  chairs  for 
the  gentlemen,  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  Then  I 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  123 

hope  you  will  accept  the  hospitality  of  my  poor  house." 

If  the  litter  as  well  as  the  chairs  already  had  been 
ordered,  Watkins  must  have  caught  some  other  ci 
phered  command  in  his  master's  voice,  for  the  valet 
turned  softly  and  said  something  to  one  of  the  people, 
and  another  runner  sped  quickly  away. 

"We  are  giving  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  Your  High 
ness,"  Lucilla  objected. 

"A  great  deal  of  pleasure,  Madam,"  the  Raja  cor 
rected  her. 

"But  I  hope,  sir,"  Crespin  ventured  again,  "there  will 
be  no  difficulty  about  transport  back  to — India."  He 
was  feeling  deucedly  uneasy,  was  the  English  Major, 
but  he  managed  to  keep  it  out  of  his  voice. 

Basil  Traherne  was  feeling  much  uneasier,  but  he 
said  nothing,  gave  no  sign — and  waited. 

"Time  enough  to  talk  of  that,  Major,"  the  Raja  in 
sisted  gayly,  "when  you  have  rested  and  recuperated 
after  your  adventure.  You  will  do  me  the  honor  of 
dining  with  me  this  evening  ?  I  trust  you  will  not  find 
us  altogether  uncivilized."  It  was  courtly  invitation, 
social  entreaty  even,  but  too  it  was  princely  command. 
The  Englishmen  recognized  it,  and  obeyed  it  with  a 
bow.  Their  anxiety  raged,  but  their  knees  bent. 

The  woman  took  it  up  lightly.  "Your  Highness," 
she  said  to  him,  "will  have  to  excuse  the  barbarism  of 
our  attire.  We  have  nothing  to  wear  but  what  we 
stand  up  in."  And  she  made  a  delicate  mouth  at  her 
tumbled  tweed  skirt  and  her  warm,  stout  boots. 

"Oh,  I  think  we  can  put  that  all  right,"  the  Raja 
told  her.  "Watkins!" 

"Your  'Ighness!"  Watkins  came  to  heel. 

"You  are  in  the  confidence  of  our  Mistress  of  the 
Robes.  How  does  our  wardrobe  stand?" 


124  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"A  fresh  consignment  of  Paris  models  came  in  only 
last  week,  Your  'Ighness." 

"Good!  Then  I  hope,  Madam,  that  you  may  find 
among  them  some  rag  that  you  will  deign  to  wear." 

"Paris  models,  Your  Highness!"  she  exclaimed, 
speaking  as  lightly  as  he  had.  "And  you  talk  of  being 
uncivilized !" 

"We  do  what  we  can,  Madam,"  he  returned  with  a 
bow.  "I  sometimes  have  the  pleasure  of  entertaining 
European  ladies" — Traherne  turned  aside  as  he  bit  at 
his  lip,  Crespin  checked  a  frown — "though  not,  hith 
erto,  Englishwomen — in  my  solitudes;  and  I  like  to 
mitigate  the  terrors  of  exile  for  them.  Then  as  for 
civilization,  you  know,  I  have  always  at  my  elbow  one 
of  its  most  finished  products.  Watkins !" 

"Your  'Ighness!"  the  finished  product  said  in  a  voice 
that  would  have  been  sulky,  had  it  dared,  and  he  came 
forward  with  again  a  hint  of  slinking  in  his  cat-like 
tread.  Evidently  the  valet  disliked  this  limelight. 

"You  will  recognize  in  Watkins,  gentlemen,"  the 
Raja  explained,  "another  representative  of  the  Ruling 
Race."  Watkins  touched  his  hat  miserably  to  Crespin 
and  Traherne,  but  he  did  not  look  at  them.  His  eyes 
studied  his  shoes.  "I  assure  you  he  rules  me  with  an 
iron  hand — not  always  in  a  velvet  glove.  Eh,  Wat- 
kins?" 

"Your  'Ighness  will  'ave  your  joke,"  the  valet  said 
lamely. 

But  the  master  was  merciless.  "He  is  my  Prime 
Minister  and  all  my  cabinet — but  more  particularly  my 
Lord  Chamberlain.  No  one  can  touch  him  at  mixing 
a  cocktail  or  making  a  salad.  My  entire  household 
trembles  at  his  nod;  even  my  chef  quails  before  him. 
Nothing  comes  amiss  to  him ;  for  he  is,  like  myself,  a 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  125 

man  without  prejudices.  You  may  be  surprised  at 
my  praising  him  to  his  face  in  this  fashion;  you  may 
see  some  danger  of — what  shall  I  say? — swelled  head. 
But  I  know  my  Watkins ;  there  is  not  the  slightest  risk 
of  his  outgrowing  that  modest  bowler.  He  knows  his 
value  to  me,  and  he  knows  that  he  would  never  be 
equally  appreciated  elsewhere.  I  have  guarantees  for 
his  fidelity— €h,  Watkins  ?" 

"I  know  when  I'm  well  off,  if  that's  what  Your  'Igh- 
ness  means,"  the  man  said,  still  without  looking  up. 

"I  mean  a  little  more  than  that,"  the  Raja  said 
quietly ;  "but  no  matter.  I  have  sometimes  thought  of 
instituting  a  peerage,  in  order  that  I  might  raise  Wat- 
kins  to  it.  But  I  mustn't  let  my  admiration  for  British 
institutions  carry  me  too  far.  .  .  .  Those  scoundrels 
of  bearers  are  taking  a  long  time,  Watkins." 

"The  lady's  litter  'ad  to  'ave  fresh  curtains,  Your 
j'Ighness,"  the  servant  explained.  "They  won't  be  a 
minute  now."  And  desperately  Watkins  hoped  it.  He 
was  the  most  impatient  and  not  the  least  anxious  there 
now. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BUT  it  was  many  a  minute  before  the  litter-bearers 
came. 

The  Raja  turned  to  Crespin.  "You  were  speaking  of 
transport,  Major — "  then  to  Traherne,  "Is  your  ma 
chine  past  repair,  Dr.  Traherne  ?" 

"Utterly,  I'm  afraid." 

"Let  us  look  at  it,"  the  Raja  suggested,  and  turning 
towards  it  he  saw  that  his  body-guard  had  broken  rank, 
and  all  were  clustered  pell-mell  on  the  path,  looking  in 
rather  frightened  amazement  at  the  mangled  plane. 
He  gave  a  sharp,  displeased  word  of  command,  and 
they  scampered  back  into  a  sort  of  loose  order,  but  even 
from  the  comparative  distance  they  kept  their  anxious, 
puzzled  eyes  swung  back  to  the  aeroplane,  and  some 
of  the  boldest  or  less  disciplined  craned  their  bebeaded 
necks.  "Ah,  yes,"  the  Raja  said  after  a  near  glance, 
"propeller  smashed — planes  crumpled  up — " 

"Under  carriage  wrecked,"  Traherne  prompted 
sadly. 

"I'm  afraid  we  can't  offer  to  repair  the  damage  for 
you,"  the  Raja  said,  shaking  his  head. 

"I'm  afraid  not,  sir,"  the  doctor  answered  grimly. 

"A  wonderful  machine!"  the  Raja  said  enthusiasti 
cally,  still  looking  it  over.  "Yes,"  he  owned,  "Europe 
has  something  to  boast  of.  I  wonder  what  the  priest 
here  thinks  of  it?"  He  turned  with  a  laugh,  and 
beckoned  Yazok,  and  they  spoke  together  in  their  own 
tongue,  the  Raja  with  a  few  short  words,  the  priest 
with  long  guttural  volubility  profusely  punctuated  with 

126 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  127 

deep  salaams.  It  was  evident  that  temporal  power  ex 
ceeded  the  gods'  in  Rukh.  The  master  dismissed  the 
other  almost  as  crisply  as  he  had  admonished  the  gap 
ing  body-guard,  and  turned  with  a  smile  of  tolerance, 
if  more  contempt,  again  to  Traherne.  "He  says,"  he 
translated,  "it  is  the  great  roc — the  giant  bird,  you 
know,  of  our  Eastern  stories.  And  he  declared  that  he 
plainly  saw  his  Goddess  hovering  over  you  as  you 
descended,  and  guiding  you  towards  her  temple." 

"I  wish  she  could  have  guided  us  towards  the  level 
ground  I  saw  behind  your  castle,"  Traherne  said 
grimly.  He  felt  no  compulsion  to  speak  more  cere 
moniously  of  her  Green  Goddesship  than  the  Raja 
himself  had.  "I  could  have  made  a  safe  landing 
there." 

"No  doubt,"  the  Raja  nodded;  "on  my  parade 
ground — almost  the  only  level  spot  in  my  domains." 

"These,  I  suppose,"  Mrs.  Crespin,  tired  of  her  cush 
ions,  asked  as  she  joined  them,  and  caught  his  words, 
"are  your  body-guard  ?" 

"My  household  troops,  Madam,"  the  potentate  said 
with  a  bow. 

"How  picturesque  they  are !"  she  exclaimed. 

The  Raja  laughed.  "Oh,"  he  said  easily,  "a  relic  of 
barbarism,  I  know.  I  can  quite  understand  the  con 
tempt  with  which  my  friend  the  Major  is  at  this  mo 
ment  regarding  them." 

Hearing  him  Crespin  joined  them  too.  "Irregular 
troops,  Raja,"  he  said;  "often  first-class  fighting  men." 

"And  you  think,"  the  Raja  said  quickly,  "that,  if  ir 
regularity  is  the  virtue  of  irregular  troops,  these — what 
is  the  expression,  Watkins?" 

"Tyke  the  cyke,  Your  'Ighness,"  the  expatriated 
cockney  supplied — but  he  kept  his  distance. 


128  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"That's  it — take  the  cake — that's  what  you  think, 
Major?" 

"Well,"  Crespin  owned,  too  taking  his  cue  and  tone 
from  the  cosmopolitan  Raja's  own,  "they  would  be  hard 
to  beat,  sir." 

"I  repeat,"  the  ruler  said  gravely,  "a  relic  of  barbar 
ism.  You  see,  I  have  strong  conservative  instincts — 
I  cling  to  the  fashions  of  my  fathers — and  my  people 
would  be  restive  if  I  didn't.  I  maintain  these  fellows 
as  his  Majesty  the  King-Emperor  keeps  up  the  Beef 
eaters  in  the  Tower.  But  I  also  like  to  move  with  the 
times,  as  perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  show  you."  He 
lifted  the  silver  whistle  that  hung  at  his  coat,  and  blew 
on  it  two  short  blasts. 

Instantly  from  behind  every  rock  and  shrub — from 
every  bit  of  possible  cover — there  emerged  a  soldier, 
garbed  in  spick  and  span  European  uniform — almost 
identical  with  the  uniform  of  a  crack  regiment  of  Im 
perial  Russia — and  faultlessly  armed  with  the  latest 
brand  of  magazine  rifle.  They  saluted  their  prince, 
and  then  stood,  their  eyes  on  him,  as  immovable  as 
statues  at  attention. 

"Good  Lord!"  and  Crespin  added  an  involuntary- 
whistle;  and  Traherne  as  involuntarily  gasped, 
"Hallo!"  But,  if  the  Englishwoman  shared  their 
amazement  she  did  not  show  it.  She  looked  at 
the  up-sprung  troops  quite  calmly  and  casually.  That 
surprised  the  Raja,  and  pleased  him — quickened  him 
even.  There  is  no  other  quality  that  appeals  to  the 
high  caste  Oriental  as  inscrutability  and  imperturba 
bility  do — qualities  of  soul  and  of  breeding  that  echo 
his  own,  and  to  which  his  own  answer.  He  did  not 
like  Europeans,  except  an  old  friend  or  two  of  his 
English  varsity  days.  But  he  felt  that  he  could,  if 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  129 

opportunity  served,  like  this  Englishwoman — and  the 
Raja  of  Rukh  was  accustomed  and  skilled  to  swing 
opportunity  into  his  line.  He  said  to  her  concernedly, 
"I  trust  I  did  not  startle  you,  Madam?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  she  told  him.  "I  am  not  nervous," 
and  she  looked  him  frankly  and  squarely  in  the  eyes, 
as  she  sat  carelessly  down  again  on  her  seat  of  cushions. 

His  dark  eyes  kindled  an  instant,  then  he  said  lightly, 
"You,  of  course,  realize  that  this  effect  is  not  original. 
I  have  plagiarized  it  from  the  excellent  Walter  Scott : 

'These  are  the  Clan-Alpine's  warriors  true, 
And,  Saxon,  I  am  Roderick  DhuP 

But  I  think  you'll  admit,  Major,  that  my  men  know 
how  to  take  cover !" 

How  typically  Oriental,  Traherne  thought,  incredi 
ble  mixture  of  child  and  cool  man  of  the  world. 

"By  the  Lord,  sir,"  Crespin  answered  heartily,  "they 
must  move  like  cats — for  you  can't  have  planted  them 
there  before  we  arrived." 

"No,"  the  Raja  reminded  him  with  a  laugh;  "you 
had  given  me  no  notice  of  your  coming." 

"Perhaps  the  Goddess  did,"  Lucilla  said  slyly. 

Dr.  Traherne  felt  a  little  anxious  at  that,  but  the 
Raja  took  her  words  in  the  best  of  good  part.  "Not 
she,  Madam,"  he  assured  her,  letting  his  brown-black 
eyes,  smile  into  hers  for  a  moment.  "She  keeps  her 
own  counsel.  These  men  followed  me  down  from  the 
palace,  and  have  taken  position  while  we  have  been 
speaking." 

He  gave  one  word  of  command,  and  the  men,  abso 
lutely  making  no  sound,  rapidly  assembled  and  formed 
in  two  ranks,  an  officer  on  their  flank. 


130  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Crespin's  once  soldierly  face  glowed  with  admiration. 
His  wife  thought  she  had  not  for  years  seen  him  look 
so  nearly  his  old  self.  "A  very  smart  body  of  men, 
Raja,"  he  said  with  blunt  and  evident  admiration.  "Al 
low  me  to  congratulate  you  on  their  training." 

"I  am  greatly  flattered,  Major."  The  Raja  was 
delighted,  and  showed  it  gleefully — the  child,  so  quick 
in  every  Oriental,  hot  on  the  surface.  "I  superintend 
it  myself.  .  .  .  Ah,  here  comes  the  litter." 

Down  the  path  it  came,  four  bearers  carrying  it 
evenly.  Two  chairs,  each  borne  by  two  men,  swung 
along  behind  it.  As  its  bearers  put  the  litter  down,  the 
Raja  offered  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Crespin  with,  "Permit 
me,  Madam,  to  hand  you  to  your  palanquin." 

As  she  rose  she  picked  up  her  leather  coat,  and  the 
newspaper  dropped  from  its  folds  and  fell  to  the 
ground.  Traherne  bit  his  lip.  The  Raja  sprang  to 
pick  it  up.  "Pardon  me,  Madam,"  he  said  quickly,  al 
most  in  a  tone  of  command,  and  began  to  scan  it.  "A 
newspaper  only  two  days  old!  That  is  such  a  rarity 
that  you  must  allow  me  to  glance  at  it."  He  opened! 
it  with  a  deferential  gesture  but  with  a  determined 
hand,  and  a  flick  of  something  not  too  amicable  glinted 
from  his  eyes  as  he  saw  that  a  strip  had  been  torn  from 
the  back  page.  "Ah,"  he  said  softly,  "the  telegraphic 
news  gone !  What  a  pity !  In  my  seclusion,  I  hunger 
for  tidings  from  the  civilized  world." 

Yazok  the  priest  came  closer  and  spoke  to  his  prince 
eagerly,  telling  too  in  vivid  pantomime  Traherne's 
burning  of  the  paper,  and  then  pointed  to  the  little  blur 
of  ashes  still  on  the  ground.  The  Raja  looked  at  them 
slowly,  lifted  his  eyes,  and  asked  Traherne,  smiling, 
"You  burned  this  column  ?" 

"Unfortunately,  I  did."    Traherne  had  sensed  rather 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  131 

than  caught  the  dislike,  and  even  almost  threat,  in  the 
suave  Eastern  voice. 

"Ah!"  the  Raja  said  with  a  significance  he  did  not 
choose  or  trouble  to  veil.  Then,  after  a  pause  no  one 
else  quite  cared  to  break,  he  added,  with  a  show  of 
gratitude  that  was  very  well  done,  if  he  was  not  sin 
cere,  "I  know  your  motive,  Dr.  Traherne,  and  I  appre 
ciate  it.  You  destroyed  it  out  of  consideration  for  my 
feelings,  wishing  to  spare  me  a  painful  piece  of  in 
telligence.  That  was  very  thoughtful — almost,  if  I 
may  say  it,  Orientally  so — but  quite  unnecessary.  I 
already  know  what  you  tried  to  conceal." 

"You  know !"  and  "Your  Highness  knows !"  the  two 
Englishmen  said  simultaneously,  incredulously. 

The  Raja  smiled  slightly  and  bowed  so.  "Oh,  I  had 
not  seen  this  excellent  English  journal — if  I  had,  my 
eagerness  to  look  at  it  would  have  been  an  indirection 
unworthy  between  friends,  and  quite  unnecessary  to 
me,  I  assure  you — and  I  have  not  heard  what  comment 
the  admirable  editor  of  the  Leader  makes — or  his 
leader  writers — but  I  know  that  three  of  my  subjects, 
accused  of  a  political  crime,  have  been  sentenced  to 
death." 

"How  is  it  possible — ?"  Traherne  involuntarily 
began. 

"Bad  news  flies  fast,  Dr.  Traherne,"  the  Raja  re 
plied.  "And  too — this  is  Asia,"  he  added  significantly. 
"But  one  thing  you  can  perhaps  tell  me — is  there  any 
chance  of  their  sentences  being  remitted?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  Your  Highness,"  Traherne  an 
swered  reluctantly.  And  whatever  reluctance  he  did 
or  did  not  feel  at  the  fact,  he  was  most  sincerely  reluc 
tant  to  tell  it  to  the  Raja  of  Rukh. 

"Remitted?"  Crespin  broke  in  brashly.     "I  should 


132  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

rather  say  not.  It  was  a  cold-blooded,  unprovoked 
murder!" 

"Unprovoked,  you  think  ?"  Rukh  said  evenly.  "Well, 
I  won't  argue  the  point.  And  the  execution  is  to 
be—?" 

He  had  asked  it  pointedly  of  Traherne,  and  Tra- 
herne  replied,  still  more  reluctantly  than  he  had  before 
— and  smothering  a  strong  desire  to  throttle  Antony 
Crespin :  "I  think  to-morrow — or  the  day  after."  It 
might  be  worse  than  idle  to  lie  to  this  man,  who  seemed 
uncannily  provided  with  distant  news. 

"To-morrow,  or  the  day  after,"  the  Raja  said  mus 
ingly.  "Yes."  Then,  with  even  an  added  deference, 
he  turned  again  to  Lucilla.  "Forgive  me,  Madam,"  he 
begged;  "I  have  kept  you  waiting." 

"Does  Your  Highness  know  anything  of  these  men  ?" 
Traherne  asked  impulsively — and  regretted  instantly 
that  he  had. 

Over  his  shoulder,  looking  Traherne  full  in  the  eyes, 
handing  Mrs.  Crespin  carefully  into  the  waiting  litter, 
the  Raja  said  very  simply,  "Know  them?  Oh,  yes — 
they  are  my  brothers."  Then,  without  giving  time  for 
comment  or  commiseration,  and  in  a  manner  that  un 
mistakably  but  delicately  brooked  none,  he  seated  him 
self  in  his  own  litter,  and  clapped  his  hands  twice.  The 
bearers  lifted  the  litters  and  moved  away  with  them 
slowly.  Lucilla  Crespin's  went  first,  the  Raja's  close 
after,  the  well-trained  regular  soldiers  lining  the  way  in 
single  rank,  and  saluting  as  the  litters  passed.  Wat- 
kins  the  valet  followed  close  at  heel  to  his  master's. 

The  Englishmen  seated  themselves  in  the  chairs — 
there  was  no  alternative. 

"His  brothers?"  Crespin  said  uneasily  as  they  did 
so.  "What  did  he  mean?" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  133 

"Heaven  knows!"  Traherne  replied,  shrugging  his 
shoulders. 

"I  don/t  half  like  our  host,  Traherne,"  the  Major 
grumbled  from  his  chair.  "There's  too  much  of  the 
cat  about  him." 

"Or  of  the  tiger,"  the  other  rejoined  grimly.  "And 
how  the  devil  had  he  got  the  news?" 

They  were  anxious — Basil  Traherne  the  more  so. 
And  Lucilla  Crespin's  heart  knocked  oddly  as  she  rode 
in  her  queen-like  litter.  But  she  sat  at  ease  with  an 
easy  smile  on  her  face — going  to,  as  she  perfectly  well 
understood,  what  might  prove  either  the  most  interest 
ing  experience  of  her  life  or  a  funeral  march. 

As  the  two  chairs  moved  after  the  litters  the  two 
ranks  of  soldiers  closed  round  them.  The  ramshackle 
irregulars,  and  the  bizarre  retinue,  the  dancing  negro 
first,  the  musicians  next,  the  rest  pell-mell,  brought  up 
the  ragged  rear,  and  the  gesticulating,  still  curious 
populace  followed  the  retinue. 

Only  Yazok  the  priest  remained,  prostrating  himself 
in  thanksgiving  before  the  Green  Goddess,  staying 
prostrate  so,  till  slow  hours  had  sped  and  the  stark 
goat  heads  at  her  feet  grew  newly  red  in  the  last  crim 
son  rays  of  the  fast  sinking  sun. 

The  quick  Asian  twilight  came,  and  as  it  came  was 
gone.  The  great  stars  came  out  in  the  crinkling  sky,  a 
baby  moon  laughed  down  on  the  temple  precincts  and 
the  rotting  marigolds.  And  still  Yazok  the  high  priest 
prostrated  himself  before  the  six-armed  Goddess. 


CHAPTER  XX 

\T7HAT  were  they  to  do?  They  were  all  three 
**  wondering  that.  There  was  nothing  for  them 
to  do  but  mark  time — and  watch  with  alert  eyes,  ears 
open,  and  placid  faces.  They  all  realized  it,  and  real 
izing  it,  did  it  thoroughly,  like  the  Britons  they  were. 
On  and  up  the  procession  went  to  the  palace  gate, 
but  with  every  rod  they  made  the  distance  between  the 
palanquins  and  the  chairs  was  lengthened.  It  was  not 
far,  as  that  proverbial  crow  goes,  but  the  way  was 
hard  and  steep,  it  twisted,  turned,  zig-zagged  and  cir 
cled  about  itself  like  the  railroad  to  Darjeeling,  and 
like  it  went  down  almost  as  often  as  it  went  up,  mak 
ing  the  actual  gain  in  ascent  very  gradual.  Except  for 
the  rocks  on  either  side,  and  the  rose  and  snow-crested 
peaks  beyond  them  there  was  little  to  see.  But  here 
and  there  a  tiny  hovel-like  home  clung  desperately  to 
the  brown  rocks,  and  twice  where  the  rocks  spread 
apart  a  little  to  flatness  great  lily-tanks  had  been  con 
trived.  They  really  were  water-lily  farms,  the  plants 
grown  and  tended  for  the  food  they  supplied.  The 
first  and  larger  tank  was  snow-white,  for  the  Nym- 
phata  nclumbo — queen  perhaps  of  all  wild  water-lilies 
— was  in  full  blooming  now,  and,  because  it  was  be 
tween  mid-day  and  sunset,  every  wonderful  flower-cup 
was  opened  wide.  When  they  died  away  in  a  few 
weeks  their  seed  capsules  would  grow  thousands  of 
acorn-shaped,  edible  kernels,  delicious  when  gathered 
green  and  roasted,  valuable  as  winter  food-store,  to  be 

134 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  135 

dried  and  eaten  as  nuts,  or  ground  into  flour  for  the 
lily-cakes  upon  which  the  people  largely  lived.  The 
tank  higher  up  was  densely  crowded  with  singara 
lilies,  the  water  so  hidden  under  the  great  green  leaves 
that  it  looked  a  delicate  sward  flecked  with  brilliant 
snow  blossoms.  The  singara  nuts  raw  were  a  great 
delicacy,  second — if  second — only  to  the  half -ripe  beans 
of  the  lotus  and  tender  leaf-stalks  boiled  and  seasoned, 
and  singara  flour  was  a  staple  of  peasant  life. 

Something  animal  was  scrambling  slowly,  cautiously 
down  a  far  mountain's  knife-like  edge — a  caravan  of 
the  miracle- footed  hill-ponies  bringing  luxuries  from 
half  the  globe  to  the  King  of  Rukh. 

The  long,  twisted  palace,  when  they  reached  it,  was 
even  larger  and  more  impressive  than  Mrs.  Crespin 
had  thought.  Whatever  the  interior  might  prove,  the 
exterior  was  not  unbeautiful;  the  details  of  the  great 
open  arches,  some  scalloped,  some  sharply  pointed,  no 
two  quite  alike,  yet  all  in  harmony  with  the  others  and 
with  the  splendid  and  panoramic  mountain  site,  were 
beautiful  and  significant — they  told  a  story  of  years 
of  lavish  labor  and  thought;  and  through  several  of 
the  open  arch  spaces  exquisite  vistas  of  courtyards 
and  pools,  colonnades  and  gray,  intricate  walls  showed 
cool  and  inviting. 

The  Raja  helped  the  Englishwoman  out  of  her  litter 
as  deferentially  as  he  had  assisted  her  into  it.  Serv 
ants  hurried  to  meet  them  at  the  opened  door — women 
among  them,  and  at  a  flicker  of  the  ruler's  hand,  one 
more  handsomely  dressed  than  the  others  came  to  Lu- 
cilla  and  salaamed  before  her. 

"She  will  attend  you  to  your  apartments,  Madam," 
the  Raja  said,  "and  wait  upon  you.  She  has  my  com 
mand  to  obey  you  in  all  things,  and  she  will.  You 


136  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

will  find  her  not  unskillful,  and  she  is  trustworthy.  She 
is  yours." 

Mrs.  Crespin  looked  at  the  native  woman  search- 
ingly,  afraid  to  go,  afraid  to  refuse  to  do  so.  The 
woman,  uncommonly  tall  and  most  decidedly  handsome, 
had  a  comfortable,  not  unkind  face,  Lucilla  decided. 
But  she  temporized. 

"I  will  wait  until  Major  Crespin  comes,  I  think, 
Your  Highness." 

"By  no  means,"  the  potentate  said  smoothly.  "See 
how  far  the  gentlemen  are  behind  us — and  I  cannot 
allow  you  to  fatigue  yourself  farther  than  you  already 
must  have  done  to-day." 

Lucilla  still  hesitated.  The  chairs  were  far  in  the 
distance.  If  she  showed  the  fear  she  felt,  how  might 
it  not  anger  this  now  smiling  man  who  spoke  to  her 
so  courtly,  whose  power  was  so  absolute? 

"Until  dinner,  Madam,"  he  said,  bowing  low.  But 
there  was  finality  in  his  silken  voice,  and  Lucilla  Cres 
pin,  praying  that  she  might  choose  of  the  perils  swarm 
ing  about  her  the  least,  turned  and  followed  the 
swarthy  ayah. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  "until  dinner  then,  sir," 

The  Raja  bowed  his  approval,  and  turned  away  in 
another  direction.  She  wondered  that  he  did  not  wait 
to  welcome  Antony  and  Traherne — it  would  have  been 
princelier,  she  thought,  since  he  had  so  bidden  their 
coming,  so  pressed  his  hospitality  upon  them — but  it 
was  relief  that  he  showed  no  intention  of  dancing  un 
welcome  attendance  upon  her.  That  was  something. 
She  shivered  a  little,  and  quietly  followed  the  native 
woman. 

Crespin  looked  quickly  about  for  his  wife  when  at 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  137 

last  his  bearers  put  down  his  chair,  and  he  lumbered 
out  of  it.  She  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

But  Watkins  came  forward. 

"Madam  is  resting,  sir,"  he  said,  "until  dinner." 

"I'll  go  to  her,  then,"  Major  Crespin  ordered. 

Watkins  bowed,  and  spoke  to  one  of  the  servants 
waiting  behind  him. 

"He  knows  no  Henglish,  sir,"  Watkins  said  regret 
fully,  "but  he  hunderstands  gestures  somethink  sur 
prising,  and  he  knows  a  few  words  of  the  French 
tongue,  hif  you'll  be  so  good  has  to  pronounce  'em 
slow,  and  one  at  a  toime." 

Crespin  nodded  curtly,  saw  Traherne  leaving  his 
chair,  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then  motioned  the  man 
of  a  little  French  to  show  him  the  way.  He'd  find 
Lu,  or  he'd  pull  the  bally  old  show  down,  he  said  to 
himself,  and  he  meant  it.  No  sense  in  making  a  fuss, 
or  a  mess,  till  he  had  to,  till  the  right  time  came ;  but 
when  it  did  he'd  make  the  damnedest  mess  the  Eastern 
hemisphere'd  seen  yet.  So,  he  threw  Traherne  a  nod, 
and  followed  the  white-clad  native. 

Dr.  Traherne  searched  the  great  entrance  hall,  look 
ing  for  Mrs.  Crespin  beyond  her  husband.  She  was 
not  in  sight,  nor  was  the  Raja.  Well,  probably  An 
tony  Crespin  knew  where  his  wife  was,  had  spoken 
to  and  was  following  her — the  hall  wound  just  be 
yond  the  stairs.  He  hoped  it  was  so,  intensely.  And 
he  checked  an  impulse  to  call  Crespin  back  to  question 
him.  Apparently  nothing  was  wrong  yet — not  openly 
wrong — or  Crespin  would  not  be  trudging  along  so 
contentedly  beside  that  squat  image  in  the  white  silk, 
red-edged  gown.  There  was  nothing  to  gain  and 
everything  to  risk  in  kicking  up  an  impotent  dust  be 
fore  one  had  to ;  above  all,  to  show  fear  was  the  worst 


138  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

move  one  could  possibly  make  when  one  played  chess 
for  heads  with  an  Oriental.  Odd  the  Raja  was  not 
here !  Leading  the  way  just  ahead  with  Mrs.  Crespin 
probably.  That  was  right  enough,  with  Crespin  right 
behind  them.  So  he  moved  on  after  the  Major. 

But  Watkins  stayed  him. 

"This  way,  hif  you  please,  sir,"  the  valet  said  sub 
serviently,  indicating  a  quite  different  turn  in  the  vast 
hall.  "The  ladies  are  that  side  of  the  'ouse,  sir,  hand 
the  military  gentleman,  because  of  his  lidy,  but  your 
rooms  are  hover  'ere,  sir,  and  this  man  will  hattend 
you." 

Traherne  nodded  a  little  curtly  but,  as  the  others 
already  had  done,  did  as  he  was  told.  Best  carry  on, 
he  reflected,  none  too  reassured,  and  carry  on  warily 
and  quietly. 

They  all  separately  had  come  to  the  same  forced, 
uncomfortable  conclusion. 

Alone,  lost  in  this  no-white-man's  land,  the  three 
English  just  carried  on.  It  seemed  all  they  could  do. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  rooms  to  which  Mrs.  Crespin  and  the  two 
Englishmen  had  been  conducted  were  in  as  per 
fect  taste  as  they  were  luxurious  and  were  all  com 
fortable,  hers  even  more  all  this  than  theirs,  but  all  ad 
mirable  and  irreproachable. 

But  the  room  to  which  they  were  taken,  to  await  the 
Raja's  pleasure  and  his  dinner,  left  a  good  deal  to  be 
desired,  displayed  a  good  deal  to  regret.  In  no  way 
as  bad  as  the  usual  State  Apartments  of  a  native  palace, 
it  smacked  of  them  in  much.  The  room  itself,  and  the 
costliness  of  the  deckings,  would  have  discredited  no 
princely  house  in  Europe  or  New  York ;  a  spacious  and 
beautifully  proportioned  room,  opening  wide  at  the 
back  upon  a  wide  loggia.  Beyond  the  loggia  rose  the 
snow-clad  peaks  of  the  distant  mountains,  rose-dappled 
now  by  the  kiss  of  the  late  afternoon  sun,  and  with 
strips  and  spaces  of  blue  and  soft  purple  sky  between 
them. 

The  room  itself  was  splendidly  though  dashingly 
and  somewhat  sparsely  furnished.  Most  of  its  furnish 
ings  old-fashioned  now — no  "new-art"  here — and  some 
of  it  faded,  but  all  the  sightlier  for  that,  because  colors 
and  materials,  insistently  pronounced  when  new,  time 
and  wear  had  softened  and  mellowed  to  a  friendly,  gra 
cious  exquisiteness  that  was  welcome  and  'restful  and 
kind.  But  the  usual  clocks  were  there,  a  dozen  or 
more,  all  of  them  ugly,  several  of  them  tawdry.  Most 
of  the  actual  furniture  was  black,  but  for  that  it  was 
admirable,  rich,  not  heavy,  the  black  wood  picked  out 

139 


140  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

delicately  with  gold,  the  upholstery  covered  with  yellow 
brocades.  But  the  yellow  damasks  and  the  gold  trac 
ing  did  not  clash,  for  they  had  grown  old  and  amiable 
together,  and  time  had  blended  them.  The  crystal 
chandelier  was  there,  to  be  sure,  but  only  one,  and  a 
crystal  chandelier  with  a  difference.  Its  lines  were 
graceful,  its  long  pendants  winked  and  sparkled  pleas 
antly;  and  it  flooded  the  great  room  without  domi 
nating  it — a  great,  gorgeous,  costly  thing,  but  you 
could  forget  it.  It  was  not  insistent — imperial  without 
being  impertinent;  old,  dignified,  in  no  way  "new  rich," 
and  no  more  garish  than  soft,  changeable  silk  is.  A 
rounded  ottoman — an  inviting  resting-place  heaped 
with  soft  cushions,  neither  buried  nor  crushed  beneath 
them — stood  under  the  chandelier,  placed  there  too 
mathematically.  The  marble  fireplace  would  have  re 
joiced  an  Athenian  sculptor,  or  Robert  Adam  when  he 
carved  and  cut  old  London's  Adelphi  into  forms  and 
lines  of  beauty;  and  the  mirror  above  it  would  have 
intrigued  Marie  Antoinette  or  the  beauties  of  Watteau. 

In  this  room  of  his  the  Raja  of  Rukh,  if  he  himself 
had  selected  and  directed  its  appointments,  had  mingled 
things  from  many  lands  and  of  many  times,  but  they 
did  not  blend,  and  not  many  of  them  suited  the  room 
itself.  Two  crystal  candlesticks  on  the  fireplace  man 
tle,  echoed  with  their  pendants  the  iridescent  note  of 
the  large  chandelier,  and  between  them,  the  mantle's 
only  other  ornament,  stood  exquisitely  molded  in 
bronze,  eighteen  inches  perhaps  in  height,  but  a  small 
thing  in  the  room's  big  space,  a  seemingly  tiny  repro 
duction  of  the  six-armed  goddess  in  the  temple. 

The  fireplace  was  ready  piled  with  logs,  but  they  were 
not  lit.  Electric  lights  neither  artistically  nor  cunningly 
fashioned  were  placed  conveniently  here  and  there.  A 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  141 

gramophone,  as  ugly  as  that  modern  disfigurement 
usually  is,  stood  obtrusively  at  one  end  of  the  room; 
French  and  English  books  and  reviews  lay  on  several 
tables.  There  were  roses  in  bowls,  and  tulips  in  vases. 
There  was  scent  of  sandal-wood  and  of  lemon-verbena 
in  the  air,  a  smell  of  musk  on  the  cushions.  The  pic 
tures  on  the  wall  were  bad — but  they  had  their  right 
here,  portraits  of  handsome,  gorgeously  dressed  Orien 
tals — bad  painting,  if  not  bad  drawing,  as  Western 
canons  go,  flat-faced  and  over-detailed  as  the  crafts 
manship  of  the  Persian  artists  when  Persia  held  pride 
of  place  in  the  Asian  art  world;  but  the  pictures,  not 
crowded,  were  not  too  many,  and  their  carved  camphor- 
wood  frames  were  very  beautiful.  And  they  spoke — 
they  told  a  story;  and  despicable  as  was  their  brush- 
work,  nil  their  perspective,  overdone  and  finicking  their 
detail,  peccable  their  drawing,  they  had  character — it 
was  patrician.  And  similar  as  they  all  were,  each  had 
its  own  clear  individuality  as  differentiated  as  the  tis 
sues  and  gems  of  their  turbans.  And  wherever  you 
went  the  eyes  of  those  pictured  princes  followed  you, 
or  rather  drew  your  own  eyes  back  to  the  inscrutable 
painted  lid-narrowed,  dark  eyes  of  those  who  had  ruled 
here  before  Rome  had  a  Caesar. 

Traherne,  coming  in,  looked  at  the  room  without 
much  seeing  it,  for  his  eyes  were  anxiously  searching 
for  the  Crespins. 

They  were  not  there.  No  one  was  there.  And  again 
he  marked  time  and  waited,  for  the  very  solid  reason 
that  no  other  course  recommended  itself  to  him  as 
wiser.  He  moved  idly,  but  watchfully  to  the  open 
side  of  the  room — even  to  look  out  over  an  open 
landscape  might  ease  a  trifle  his  sense  of  imprison 
ment;  but  he  stopped  at  the  room  edge  of  the  loggia, 


142  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

because  he  saw  that  three  natives  were  there.  He  had 
no  desire  for  Rukh  society,  peasant  or  noble. 

Two  turbaned  servants  were  there  laying  a  table,  a 
dignified  old  major-domo  directing  them  importantly. 
Traherne  saw  that  they  were  laying  four  covers,  and 
that  the  table  appointments  were  extremely  luxurious 
and  entirely  European.  He  turned  at  the  slight  sound 
of  a  door  opened  quickly. 

Crespin  came  in  and  looked  about  him  apprehen 
sively,  and  the  servant  who  had  ushered  him  in,  sa 
laamed  and  went  back  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"Ah,"  Crespin  said  with  a  tone  of  "thank  goodness" 
in  his  voice,  "there  you  are,  Doctor !" 

"Hullo!"  Traherne  returned.  He  noticed  how 
flushed  the  other  looked,  and  for  all  his  flush  how  hag 
gard.  "How  did  you  get  on  ?" 

"All  right.    Had  a  capital  tub.    And  you  ?" 

"Feeling  more  like  a  human  being,"  the  doctor  ad 
mitted.  "And  what  about  Mrs.  Crespin  ?  I  hope  she's 
all  right?" 

"She  was  taken  off  by  an  ayah  as  soon  as  we  got 
in—  "  Crespin  said  lamely — "in  the  women's  quarters 
presumably."  He  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  add  that 
it  was  but  hearsay  information  he  passed  on,  and  that 
he  had  seen  no  more  of  his  wife  than  Traherne  him 
self  had  since  she  had  preceded  them  from  the  temple 
in  her  palanquin — and  he  did  not  meet  the  other  man's 
glance,  but  shifted  his  eyes  about  the  strange  room  un 
easily. 

Basil  Traherne's  face  whitened,  and  his  strong  hands 
clenched  angrily.  "And  you  let  her  go  off  alone  ?"  he 
demanded  violently. 

"What  the  hell  could  I  do?"  Crespin  retorted,  more 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  143 

resentfully  than  he  felt.  "I  couldn't  thrust  myself 
into  the  women's  quarters." 

Traherne  swung  towards  him  with  a  smothered  oath. 
"And  I  tell  you  you  ought  to  have  thrust  yourself  in 
anywhere — heaven  or  hell !  And  you  should  have  kept 
her  with  you!  You  could  have  kept  her  with  you," 
Traherne  cried  passionately. 

"Do  you  think  she  would  have  stayed  ?"  Crespin  de 
manded  nastily.  "And,  come  to  that,  what  business  is 
it  of  yours  ?" 

"It's  any  man's  business  to  be  concerned  for  a 
woman's  safety,"  Traherne  pounded  back. 

"Well,,  well — all  right,"  Crespin  muttered  weakly. 
He  had  come  into  the  room  "considerably  bucked,"  but 
the  courage  he'd  found  in  a  drink  or  two  after  his  tub, 
was  evaporating  fast,  and  he  wished,  'pon  his  soul  he 
did,  that  Traherne  wouldn't  rave  so.  "Well,  well.  But 
there  was  nothing  I  could  have  done,  or  that  she  would 
have  let  me  do.  And  I  don't  think  there's  any  danger." 

Traherne's  mouth  twitched  with  the  disgust  he  felt. 
And  this  was  her  husband !  "Let  us  hope  not,"  he  said 
coldly. 

Crespin  ignored  the  sneer  in  the  other's  voice.  He 
preferred  to — he  felt  in  no  shape  for  a  scrap  just  now, 
and  there  might  be  scrap  enough  of  another  and 
deadlier  sort  to  face  soon — and  that  would  have  to  be 
faced  no  matter  in  what  shape  he  felt.  He  sat  down 
heavily  in  a  big  chair  by  the  fireplace.  "It's  a  vast 
shanty,  this,"  he  said  fumblingly,  looking  about  him 
vaguely. 

"It's  a  palace  and  fortress  in  one,"  Traherne  replied, 
but  in  no  friendly  tone. 

Crespin  did  not  wish  to  talk,  but  he  clung  to  the 


144  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

change  of  subject  desperately,  and  said,  "A  devilish 
strong  place  before  the  days  of  big  guns.  But  a  couple 
of  howitzers  would  make  it  look  pretty  foolish." 

"No  doubt;  but  how  would  you  get  them  here?" 
snapped  Traherne. 

That  was  unanswerable,  and  Crespin  made  no  at 
tempt  to  answer  it. 

"I  wish  to  God  we  had  them  here  though !"  the  phy 
sician  added  passionately,  not  looking  at  the  man  he 
spoke  to,  but  with  tortured  eyes  hard  on  the  door,  his 
ears  strained  to  catch  a  woman's  step  in  the  hall. 

"I  wish  we  had/'  Major  Crespin  assented  dejectedly. 
He  pulled  himself  out  of  the  armchair,  levering  himself 
up  by  its  arms,  and  moved  to  the  loggia.  "My  hat!" 
he  exclaimed,  and  whistled  in  surprise  and  approval  as 
the  dinner  table  met  his  gaze.  "I  say — it  looks  as  if 
our  friend  were  going  to  do  us  well." 

A  servant  came  in  with  a  large  wine-cooler  and  put 
it  down.  Traherne  paid  him  no  attention,  but  Crespin 
watched  him  narrowly,  and  as  soon  as  the  native  had 
gone  as  he'd  come,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him, 
Crespin  pulled  a  bottle  up  from  the  ice,  and  inspected 
its  label.  He  whistled  again,  and  his  bloodshot  eyes 
glistened.  'Terrier  Jouet,  nineteen-o-six,  by  the 
Lord!"  He  ran  an  affectionate  tremulous  fat  finger 
over  the  already  beading  gold-foiled  neck  of  the  bottle 
thirstily.  Even  poor  Crespin's  fingers  were  thirsty.  He 
was  one  big  thirst,  and  the  sight  of  the  vintage  wine 
almost  maddened  him.  He  rammed  it  back  into  its  ice 
pack,  and  strolled  over  to  the  ottoman,  and  sank  into 
its  cushions.  "It's  a  rum  start  this,  Traherne,"  he 
murmured.  "I  suppose  you  intellectual  chaps  would 
call  it  romantic." 

Traherne  took  his  eyes  from  the  door  for  a  moment. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  145 

"More  romantic  than  agreeable,  I  should  say,"  he  mut 
tered,  as  he  picked  the  small  goddess  up  from  the  man 
tle.  "I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this  lady,"  he  added  as 
he  put  it  down. 

"What  is  she?"  Crespin  asked  sleepily. 

"The  same  figure  we  saw  in  the  little  temple,  where 
we  landed,"  Traherne  told  him. 

Both  were  talking  to  lift  a  little,  if  they  could,  the 
strain  of  the  tension  that  both  were  feeling,  and  of  the 
bitterness  that  surged  in  each  against  the  other. 

"How  many  arms  has  she  got?"  Crespin  demanded, 
regarding  her  lazily. 

"Six." 

"She  could  give  you  a  jolly  good  hug,  anyway," 
Crespin  said  with  a  mirthless  and  slightly  tipsy  laugh. 

Traherne  shot  him  a  sharp  look.  "You  wouldn't 
want  another,"  he  said  darkly,  and  turned  away  to 
watch  the  door. 

For  a  time  there  was  silence.  Neither  man  spoke  or 
moved  and  from  the  outer  stillness  no  stir  of  life 
came.  Traherne' s  face  grew  like  a  death  mask,  sweat 
gathered  on  Crespin' s  forehead,  and  specked  his  red 
face. 

A  jackal  called. 

Some  deeper-throated  thing  answered  or  challenged 
it  out  on  the  mountains. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  we  really  are,  Traherne?" 
Crespin  asked  unsteadily. 

"On  the  map,  you  mean  ?" 

"Of  course." 

"Oh,  in  the  never-never  land,"  Traherne  answered 
without  moving  his  eyes  from  the  door.  "Somewhere 
on  the  way  to  Bokhara.  I've  been  searching  my  mem 
ory  for  all  I  ever  heard  about  Rukh.  I  fancy  very  little 


146  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

is  known,  except  that  it  seems  to  send  forth  a  peculiarly 
poisonous  breed  of  fanatics." 

"Like  those  who  did  poor  Haredale  in?"  Crespin 
asked,  referring  to  the  crime  for  which  the  newspapers 
had  reported  the  perpetrators  were  to  be  hanged. 

"Precisely." 

"D'you  think,"  Crespin  asked,  shifting  unhappily  on 
his  seat,  "our  host  was  serious  when  he  said  they  were 
his  brothers  ?  Or  was  he  only  pu'lling  our  leg,  curse  his 
impudence  ?" 

"He  probably  meant  caste-brothers,  or  simply  men 
of  his  race,"  the  doctor  surmised.  "But  even  so,  it's 
awkward." 

"I  don't  see  what  these  beggars,  living  at  the  back 
of  the  north  wind,  have  got  to  do  with  Indian  politics," 
Crespin  grumbled.  "We've  never  interfered  with 
them." 

"Oh,  it's  a  case  of  Asia  for  the  Asians,"  the  other 
solved  it.  "Ever  since  the  Japanese  beat  the  Russians, 
the  whole  continent  has  been  itching  to  kick  us  out." 

"So  that  they  may  cut  each  other's  throats  at  leisure, 
eh?"  Crespin  asked  almost  quarrelsomely. 

Traherne  answered  no  less  so.  Any  pretext  or  none 
would  have  served  them  for  dire  quarrel  now — only  a 
woman's  peril  held  them  in  leash.  "We  Westerners 
never  cut  each  other's  throats,  do  we?"  he  snarled. 

But  still  he  watched  the  door. 

Crespin  began  a  retort,  but  cut  it  short,  as  he  saw 
that  the  English  valet  was  in  the  room,  and  Traherne 
turning  expectantly  at  the  sound  saw  Watkins  too,  and 
though  disappointed  was  glad.  Both  the  gentlemen 
were  glad  to  see  the  serving  man.  Any  interruption 
was  welcome,  any  human  third  a  real  relief. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  man  had  come  in  noiselessly,  carrying  a  cen 
terpiece  for  the  dinner  table,  a  silver  elephant 
very  beautiful  in  its  workmanship,  the  howdah  filled 
with  fresh  flowers — delicate  filmy  orchids,  radiant  and 
deep  carnations  and  odorous  violets.  He  put  it  down 
and  turned  to  go,  as  he  had  come,  but  it  was  then  that 
Crespin  had  seen,  and  Traherne  had  heard. 

"Hullo!"  Crespin  hailed  him.  "Hullo!  What's 
your  name?  Just  come  here  a  minute,  will  you?" 

"Meaning  me,  sir?"  Watkins  advanced  a  few  steps, 
with  a  touch  of  covert  insolence  in  manner  and  voice, 
his  nervousness  of  an  hour  ago  seemingly  gone. 

"Yes,  you,  Mr. —  ?  Mr. —  ?"  Crespin  said,  involun 
tarily  speaking  in  his  turn  with  a  touch  of  contempt. 

"Watkins  is  my  name,  sir,"  the  man  told  him. 

"Right-o,  Watkins."  Far  wiser  to  be  as  hail-fellow 
as  one  could  contrivably  stomach  with  a  fellow  so  near 
the  person  and  the  ear  of  the  autocrat  upon  whom  one's 
fate  actually  depended.  And  after  all  this  chap  was 
English — the  letter  H  was  his  hall-mark  for  that — not 
much  English,  but  English,  the  only  being  of  their  own 
island-race  within  impassable  miles  of  them  probably. 
That  counted  for  something!  It  always  does  in  the 
wilds.  "Can  you  tell  us  where  we  are,  Watkins  ?" 

"They  calls  the  place  Rukh,  sir." 

Traherne,  listening  and  watching,  knew  that  the  man 
was  not  to  be  drawn. 

But  Crespin  persisted,  "Yes,  yes,  we  know  that. 
But  where  is  Rukh?" 

147 


148  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"I  understand  these  mountains  is  called  the  'Ima- 
layas,  sir,"  Watkins  replied  in  a  tone  that  said  clearly 
that  he  merely  passed  on  a  rumor  he'd  heard,  and  in 
no  way  vouched  for  it. 

"Damn  it,  sir,  we  don't  want  a  lesson  in  geography !" 
the  Major  snapped. 

"No,  sir?"  Watkins  seemed  surprised,  then  added 
apologetically,  "My  mistake,  sir,"  but  the  insolence  still 
lurked  in  the  voice  and  manner. 

"Major  Crespin  means  that  we  want  to  know,"  Tra- 
herne  intervened,  "how  far  we  are  from  the  nearest 
point  in  India." 

"I  really  couldn't  say,  sir."  Well,  Traherne  had 
not  expected  that  he  would.  "Not  so  very  far,  I  des- 
say,  as  the  crow  flies." 

"Unfortunately  we're  not  in  a  position  to  fly  with 
the  crow,"  Traherne  retorted.  "How  long  does  the 
journey  take?"  He  had  no  idea  that  Watkins  know 
ingly  would  admit  anything  useful,  but  there  was  al 
ways  the  chance  that  the  better  and  finer  trained  in 
telligence  might  trap  the  boorish  and  feebler. 

"They  tell  me  it  takes  about  three  weeks  to  Cash 
mere,"  the  valet  said  indifferently. 

"They  tell  you!"  Crespin  almost  snarled.  "Surely 
you  must  remember  how  long  it  took  you  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  Watkins  spoke  meekly  now,  but  something 
far  from  meekness  lurked  in  his  shifty  eyes.  "Excuse 
me,  sir — I've  never  been  in  India." 

"Not  been  in  India?"  Crespin  was  openly  incredu 
lous.  And  he  added,  "I  was  just  thinking,  as  I  looked 
at  you,  that  I  seemed  to  have  seen  you  before." 

"Not  in  India,"  Watkins  said  quickly  —  too 
quickly,  Dr.  Traherne  thought.  "We  might  'ave  met 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  149 

in  England,  but  I  don't  call  to  mind  having  that 
pleasure." 

Crespin  was  too  angry  at  that  impertinence  to  allow 
himself  to  notice  it,  and  only  said,  "But,  if  you  haven't 
been  in  India,  how  the  hell  did  you  get  here  ?" 

"I  came  with  'Is  'Ighness,  sir,  by  way  of  Tashkent," 
Watkins  explained  glibly — but  Traherne  thought  that 
he  said  it  anxiously  toa  "All  our  dealings  with  Eu 
rope  is  by  way  of  Russia." 

"I  daresay,"  Crespin  grunted,  not  too  wisely. 

"But  it's  possible  to  get  to  India  direct,"  Traherne 
broke  in,  "and  not  by  way  of  central  Asia?" 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  done,  sir,"  Watkins  admitted ;  "but  I'm 
told  there  are  some  very  tight  places  to  negotiate — 
like  the  camel  and  the  needle's  eye,  as  you  might  say." 

"Difficult  traveling  for  a  lady,  eh?"  Traherne  asked 
it,  knowing  the  answer,  but  he  wished  to  keep  the  man 
talking,  on  the  chance  of  even  one  useful  word  that 
might  be  let  slip;  and  he  thought  the  prompting  safer 
in  his  hands  than  in  Crespin's. 

"Next  door  to  himpossible,  I  should  guess,  sir,"  the 
man  said  promptly. 

Crespin  groaned.  "A  nice  lookout,  Traherne!" 
Then  he  turned  to  Watkins,  with,  "Tell  me,  my  man — 
is  His  Highness — h'm — married?" 

Watkins  permitted  himself  a  respectful  smile.  "Oh, 
yessir — very  much  so,  sir." 

"Children?" 

"He  has  fifteen  sons,  sir." 

"The  daughters  don't  count,  eh  ?"  Crespin  demanded. 

"I've  never  'ad  a  hopportunity  of  counting  'em,  sir," 
Watkins  said  as  if  gently  correcting  a  not  too  excusa 
ble  ignorance. 


150  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"He  said,"  Traherne  slipped  in,  "the  men  accused  of 
assassinating  a  political  officer  were  his  brothers — " 

"Did  'e  say  that,  sir?"  the  man  asked  quickly — evi 
dently  he  was  startled  out  of  his  well-trained  imper 
sonality.  Clearly  Watkins  was  excited. 

"Didn't  you  hear  him  ?  What  did  he  mean  ?"  Tra 
herne  said  it  carefully,  not  as  if  too  much  interested, 
watching  Watkins  narrowly  though,  and  pressing 
swiftly  into  the  possible  opening. 

But  Watkins  had  remembered  himself.  "I'm  sure 
I  couldn't  say,  sir,"  he  said  colorlessly,  permitting  him 
self  the  slightest  shrug.  "  'Is  'Ighness  is  what  you'd 
call  a  very  playful  gentleman,  sir." 

"But,"  Traherne  insisted,  "I  don't  see  the  joke  in 
saying  that." 

"No,  sir?"  the  servant  replied  respectfully.  "  'P'raps 
'Is  'Ighness'll  explain,  sir,"  he  added  significantly. 

Dr.  Traherne  accepted  the  hint,  and  turned  away  his 
eyes  and  attention,  giving  them  both  again  to  the  door. 

There  was  a  pause — the  English  "sahibs"  busy  each 
with  his  own  thoughts,  the  English  servant  still,  and 
patiently  waiting,  apparently  interested  in  nothing  on 
earth,  and,  if  occupied  or  busy,  entirely  so  with  his 
own  vacuity.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Watkins  gladly 
would  have  beat  a  so  ft- footed  retreat,  but  he  had  had 
his  orders,  and  he  would  obey  them.  For  Watkins,  as 
he  had  more  than  hinted  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Green 
Goddess'  temple,  knew  who  buttered  his  bread,  and 
knew  acutely  how  sharp  and  sure  the  knife  was  by 
means  of  which  that  butter  was  spread. 

Crespin  broke  the  pause.  Something  the  Raja  of 
Rukh  had  said,  down  there  by  the  temple,  scarcely  had 
struck  him  at  the  moment,  but  he  had  remembered  it 
persistently,  and  the  more  he'd  thought  of  it  the  more 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

it  had  rankled,  and  he  had  been  chewing  it  over  in  an 
impotent  way  ever  since.  He  went  at  it  now,  "Your 
master  spoke  of  visits  from  European  ladies — do  they 
come  from  Russia?"  he  questioned. 

"From  various  parts,  I  understand,  sir,"  the  man 
replied  discreetly,  but  added  tonelessly,  "Mostly  from 
Paris,"  but  an  eye  twitched  slightly,  as  if  it  might 
under  easier  circumstances  have  winked  not  unlasciv- 
iously. 

"Any  here  now?"  Crespin  asked  roughly — and  there 
was  a  rough  lump  in  his  throat — and  Traherne  knotted 
his  hands,  and  went  a  stride  nearer  the  door. 

"I  really  couldn't  say,  sir,"  was  all  Watkins  would 
own. 

"They  don't  dine  with  His  Highness?"  Traherne 
asked  crisply. 

"Oh,  no,  sir,"  the  valet  assured  him,  adding,  "  'Is 
'Ighness  sometimes  sups  with  them." 

"And  my  wife — Mrs.  Crespin — ?"  Crespin  began 
miserably — asking  it  because  he  was  tortured  indeed, 
and  after  all  this  bounder  was  British  too. 

"Make  your  mind  easy,  sir,"  Watkins  told  him 
staunchly,  speaking  with  a  genuine  something  of  kind 
ness  and  more  respectfully  than  he  had  before — per 
haps  because  after  all  he  was,  or  at  least  had  been, 
British — "the  lady  won't  meet  any  hundesirable  charac 
ters,  sir.  I  give,"  he  added  a  touch  pompously,  "strict 
orders  to  the — female  what  took  charge  of  the  lady." 

"She  is  to  be  trusted?"  Traherne  swung  round  as 
he  spoke. 

"Habsolutely,  sir,"  the  man  said  proudly,  with  a  bow. 
"She  is — in  a  manner  of  speakin' — my  wife,  sir." 

"Mrs.  Watkins,  eh?"  Crespin,  exclaimed,  a  little 
amused  in  spite  of  his  growing  anxiety.  Thomas  At- 


152  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

kins  never  did  that.  But  apparently  Watkins  had. 
"Mrs.  Watkins!" 

"Yessir,"  Watkins  admitted,  "I  suppose  you  would 
say  so." 

Traherne  was  neither  amused  by  them  nor  interested 
in  Watkins'  matrimonial  ventures — church-blessed 
or  nominal — and  he  had  no  idea  whether  the  fellow 
was  telling  the  truth  or  not.  But  he  spoke  to  him 
again,  "But  now  look  here,  Watkins,"  he  began,  "you 
say  we're  three  weeks  away  from  Cashmere — yet  the 
Raja  knew  of  the  sentence  passed  on  these  subjects  of 
his,  who  were  tried  only  three  days  ago.  How  do  you 
account  for  that  ?" 

"I  can't,  sir,"  the  man  said  stolidly.  "All  I  can  say 
is,  there's  queer  things  goes  on  here." 

"Queer  things?"  Traherne  asked  quickly — he  was 
drawing  the  sleek  valet  at  last ! — "What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Well,  sir,"  came  the  slow,  provoking  answer,  "them 
priests  you  know — they  goes  in  a  lot  for  what  'Is  'Igh- 
ness  calls  magic — " 

"Oh,  come,  Watkins — you  don't  believe  in  that!" 
Dr.  Traherne  jibed  impatiently,  with  an  oath  just  be 
hind  his  lips. 

"Well,  sir,  p'raps  not,"  the  English  valet  said  slyly. 
"I  don't,  not  to  say  believe  in  it.  But  there's  queer 
things  goes  on.  I  can't  say  no  more,  nor  I  can't  say 
no  less.  If  you'll  excuse  me,  sir,  I  must  just  run  my 
eye  over  the  dinner  table.  'Is  Tghness  will  be  here 
directly." 

Clearly  there  was  no  more  to  be  pulled  out  of  Wat- 
kins.  And  they  waited  in  moody  silence,  while  he 
touched  the  table  arrangements  here  and  there,  and 
then  noiselessly  left  the  room. 

Then,  "That  fellow's  either  a  cunning  rascal  or  a 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  153 

damned  fool,"  Crespin  muttered.  "Which  do  you 
think?" 

"I  don't  believe  he's  the  fool  he'd  like  us  to  take  him 
for."  Then  as  if  some  endurance  had  snapped,  Tra 
herne  flung  towards  the  door. 

"I  say,"  Crespin  halted  him,  "where  are  you  going?" 

"I'm  going  to  find  her!"  Traherne  said  roughly. 

Crespin  rose  to  his  feet.  "Sit  down!"  he  ordered. 
"That's  up  to  me — if  I  think  it  either  necessary  or 
wise ;  which  I  don't !  It's  not  up  to  you !" 

"It's  up  to  a  man!"  Basil  Traherne  said  hotly,  with 
.a  level  look  in  Crespin's  eyes. 

"Come  back!"  Antony  Crespin  commanded. 
"You— " 

A  moment  more  and  they  would  have  grappled  it 
out  there,  grappling  each  other's  throats. 

But  the  door  opened  softly,  and  the  woman  they 
loved  came  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SWOLLEN  and  quivered  with  anger  as  they  were, 
they  both  were  startled  at  her  beauty.  Always 
rather  more  than  good-looking,  Lucilla  Crespin,  had 
never  looked  like  this  before. 

"Ah,"  Traherne  said,  pulling  himself  together  with 
an  almost  heroic  effort,  "here  is  Mrs.  Crespin!" 

The  ayah — if  that  was  her  household  rank — who  had 
brought  Lucilla  into  the  room  went  quietly  out,  closing 
the  door.  And  the  three  captives — the  men  at  least 
knew  it  for  that — stood  alone  in  the  vast,  clamorous 
room. 

Whatever  fear  was  curdling  the  bloods  of  the  men, 
the  Englishwoman  who  shared  their  danger,  and  stood 
in  a  graver  one  of  her  own,  seemed  unperturbed  and 
carefree.  Certainly  she  was  radiant,  and  superbly 
lovely  as  she  stood  there,  the  breathing,  beautiful 
jewel  to  which  the  palace  room,  rich  as  it  was,  seemed 
but  a  humble  setting,  and  the  ermined  mountain  peaks 
and  blue  velvet  sky  beyond  the  wide  loggia  but 
background — background  and  subsidiary,  though  she 
faced  it. 

Crespin's  eyes  filled,  and  Basil  Traherne  caught  his 
breath  painfully.  They  had  seen  her  in  the  saddle,  they 
knew  how  well  she  rode,  and  how  it  became  her.  They 
had  seen  her  in  the  soft  white  gowns  that  such  women 
wear  in  India.  They  had  seen  her  dainty  and  exqui 
sitely  dressed — a  wild-rose  pink  flush  on  her  cheeks — 
at  dozens  of  dances,  in  garden-party  finery,  in  Govern 
ment  House  splendor,  in  neat,  simple  linens  cuddling 

154 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  155 

her  babies,  in  bib  and  apron  mixing  English  cakes  and 
scones  for  her  Punjabi  tea-table,  they  had  seen  her  in 
tea-gowns  and  tweeds,  seen  her  with  her  delicate  patri 
cian  English  face  softened  by  the  furs  beneath  it,  and 
had  seen  her  with  the  gems  on  throat  and  breast  re- 
sparkling  in  her  eyes — and  the  throat  that  each  thought 
her  utmost  loveliness  (and  that  women  who  disliked 
her  called  her  one  beauty)  gleam  like  snow  under  the 
jewels  that  circled  it,  and  needing  them  not,  and  Antony 
Crespin  had  seen  her  in  the  soft  deshabille  that  en 
hanced  her  most.  But  neither  ever  had  seen  her  look 
as  she  looked  now.  Some  lure  of  the  East,  some  soul 
of  the  East,  had  transformed  the  girl  of  a  Surrey  gar 
den  into  an  Eastern  queen — though  perhaps  she  never 
before  had  looked,  or  felt,  so  intensely  English. 

If  either  husband  or  friend  saw  or  sensed  this  dual 
quality  gleaming  in  her  as  she  stood  there,  as  its  colors 
gleam  through  an  opal,  neither  was  conscious  that  he 
did  so.  But  her  beauty  hit  and  quivered  them.  The 
wild-rose  tints  were  gone  from  her  face;  her  pallor 
was  radiant.  Her  hair,  always  beautiful — and  Crespin 
knew  how  soft  and  long,  and  how  uncontrived  its  rip 
pling — was  more  elaborately  dressed  than  was  her  cus 
tom,  some  experter  hands  than  hers  had  tired  it — for 
Mrs.  Crespin,  like  many  Englishwomen,  was  defter  at 
handling  bridle  and  reins  and  rackets  than  she  was  at 
toilet  devisings  and  doings.  Her  dark  filmy  gown  could 
not  have  been  simpler  or  costlier;  it  was  just  cut  from 
her  throat,  and  its  long  sleeves  slashed  to  hint  more 
than  they  showed  of  her  arms.  Except  for  her  wed 
ding-ring  and  the  engagement  diamond  beside  it,  her 
only  ornament  was  a  gold  locket  that  she  always  wore 
fastened  about  her  throat  by  a  slender  thread  of  chain. 
And  she  wore  neither  the  rings  nor  the  locket  and  chain 


156  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

for  ornament.  Wives  of  such  wedlock  as  hers  had 
proved  feel  more  stigma  than  adornment  in  its  sym 
bols;  and  the  locket  was  infinitely  more  than  any 
gewgaw — it  held  her  babies'  faces. 

She  appeared  to  have  thrown  off  or  have  lost  her 
moiety  of  the  fear  they  three  had  shared.  Her  eyes 
sparkled,  and  her  lips  curved  in  a  smile.  Whatever 
else  she  had  felt,  Mrs.  Crespin  was  enjoying  sincerely 
her  adventure  now. 

She  stood  and  smiled  at  them.  And  the  eyes  and 
hearts  of  two  men  leapt  to  her — and  she  seemed  to 
them  both  the  core  of  all  desire,  and  each — the  two  of 
such  different  instincts  and  tastes — thought  her  perfect, 
a  human  flower  needing  no  added  perfume,  no  other 
beauty  of  texture,  tint  or  outline.  A  man  loving  a 
woman  with  all  the  tenderness  and  strength  of  his  best 
manhood  may  see  and  know  her  faults  and  flaws,  and 
love  her  for  them  none  the  less.  But  the  man  who  de 
sires  sees  no  imperfections,  sight  and  mind  are  as  fe 
vered  and  irresponsible  as  his  aching  blood  is.  The 
husband  who  had  lost  her,  and  the  man  who  loved  her 
as  reverently  as  passionately,  and,  so,  without  hope  or 
thought,  and  even  without  wish — except  as  our  flesh 
and  nerves  wish  in  spite  of  us — that  he  ever  might  seek 
or  claim  or  hold  her — both  desired  her  as  she  stood 
there  in  the  sumptuous  simplicity  of  the  soft  thing  she 
wore,  and  beautiful  and  desirable  as  she  never  had 
seemed  before.  Traherne  forgot  where  they  were — 
for  a  moment — forgot  the  danger  that  menaced  them ; 
but  he  did  not  forget  his  best  self  or  hers,  and  he  did 
not  forget  a  boy  he  had  fagged  for  at  Harrow,  or  the 
sore  young  tragedy  that  had  been  that  schoolmate's  to 
bear,  and  his  own  to  witness.  And  no  treacherous 
thing  lurked  in  his  heart,  no  dishonorable  thing  showed 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  157 

in  his  eyes.  Crespin  too  forgot  where  they  were  and 
what  their  plight,  but  he  forgot  nothing  else — he  re 
membered  his  wooing  of  her,  his  possession  of  her,  and 
how  he  had  lost  her. 

And  Lucilla  Crespin  looked  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  smiled.  She  did  not  see  how  white  their  faces 
were ;  she  had  not  caught  their  quarreling  as  she  came 
in,  for  the  sinking  sun  shone  hard  in  her  eyes,  and 
their  backs  were  to  it. 

"Ah,  here  is  Mrs.  Crespin!"  Traherne  said  with  an 
effort. 

She  took  a  few  steps  towards  them,  holding  out  her 
draperies  a  little,  as  gleefully  as  a  child  in  new  festival 
robes.  "Behold  the  Paris  model !"  she  bade  them. 

"My  eye,  Lu,  what  a  ripping  frock!"  was  Antony's 
comment. 

"Talk  of  magic,  Major!"  Traherne  laughed,  turn 
ing  and  speaking  as  if  never  a  shadow  of  quarreling 
had  hung  over  them.  "There's  something  in  what  our 
friend  says." 

"What's  that?  What  about  magic?"  Mrs.  Crespin 
demanded,  accepting  the  chair  that  Crespin  moved  to 
wards  her. 

"We'll  tell  you  afterwards,"  her  husband  promised. 
"Let's  have  your  adventures  first."  He  spoke  lightly, 
but  he  was  anxious. 

"No  adventures  precisely — only  a  little  excursion  into 
the  Arabian  Nights,"  she  laughed. 

"Do  tell  us !"  Traherne  urged. 

"Well,"  she  began,  a  little  nervous  now~  Traherne 
thought,  but  evidently  not  without  enjoyment  of  the 
experience,  "my  guide — the  woman  you  saw — led  me 
along  corridor  after  corridor,  and  upstairs  and  down 
stairs,  till  we  came  to  a  heavy  bronze  door  where  two 


158  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

villainous  looking  blacks,  with  crooked  swords,  were 
on  guard.  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  them  a  bit;  but  I 
was  in  for  it,  and  had  to  go  on.  They  drew  their 
swords  and  flourished  a  sort  of  salute,  grinning  with 
all  their  teeth.  Then  the  ayah  clapped  her  hands 
twice,  some  one  inspected  us  through  a  grating  in  the 
door,  and  the  ayah  said  a  word  or  two — " 

"No  doubt,  'Open  Sesame !'  "  Traherne  suggested. 

Mrs.  Crespin  nodded.  "The  door  was  opened  by  a 
hideous,  hump-backed  old  woman,  just  like  the  wicked 
fairy  in  a  pantomime.  She  didn't  actually  bite  me,  but 
she  looked  as  if  she'd  like  to — and  we  passed  on.  More 
corridors,  with  curtained  doorways,  where  I  had  a  feel 
ing  that  furtive  eyes  were  watching  me — though  I  can't 
positively  say  I  saw  them.  But  I'm  sure  I  heard  whis 
perings  and  titterings — " 

"Good  Lord!"  Crespin  broke  in.  "If  I'd  thought 
they  were  going  to  treat  you  like  that,  I'd  have — " 

"Oh,"  his  wife  retorted,  "there  was  nothing  you 
could  have  done;  and,  you  see,  no  harm  came  of  it. 
At  last  the  woman  led  me  into  a  large  sort  of  wardrobe 
room,  lighted  from  above,  and  almost  entirely  lined 
with  glazed  presses  full  of  frocks.  Then  she  slid  back 
a  panel,  and  there  was  a  marble-lined  bathroom! — a 
deep  pool,  with  a  trickle  of  water  flowing  into  it  from 
a  dolphin's  head  of  gold — just  enough  to  make  the 
surface  ripple  and  dance.  And  all  around  were  the 
latest  Bond  Street  luxuries — shampooing  bowls  and 
brushes,  bottles  of  essences,  towels  on  hot  rails  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  The  only  thing  that  was  disagreeable 
was  a  sickly  odor  from  some  burning  pastilles — oh,  and 
a  coal-black  bath-woman." 

"It  suggests  a  Royal  Academy  picture,"  Traherne 
observed.  "  The  Odalisque's  Pool.'  " 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  159 

"Or  a  soap  advertisement,"  Crespin  objected. 

"Same  thing,"  Traherne  said  lazily. 

"Well,  I  wasn't  sorry  to  play  the  odalisque  for  once," 
Lucilla  assured  them,  "and  when  I  had  finished,  lo  and 
behold!  the  ayah  had  laid  out  for  me  half-a-dozen 
gorgeous  and  distinctly  risky  dinner-gowns."  Tra 
herne  gnawed  suddenly  at  his  lip,  Crespin  frowned 
angrily,  but  neither  spoke  or  moved,  and  Lucilla,  not 
catching  their  common  thought,  went  on,  "I  had  to  ex 
plain  to  her  in  gestures  that  I  couldn't  live  up  to  any 
of  them,  and  would  rather  put  on  my  old  traveling 
dress.  She  seemed  quite  frightened  at  the  idea — " 

"She'd  probably  have  got  the  sack — perhaps  literally 
— if  she'd  let  you  do  that,"  Crespin  said  slowly,  and  a 
hard,  fierce  look  came  into  the  other  man's  eyes. 

But  Lucilla  still  seemed  unconscious  of  their  thought, 
and  continued  quite  cheerfully — Rukh  a  little  in  her 
blood  now,  Traherne  thought — "Anyway,  she  at  last 
produced  this  comparatively  inoffensive  frock.  She 
did  my  hair — fancy  her  being  able  to  do  it  like  this ! — 
and  wanted  to  finish  me  off  with  all  sorts  of  necklaces 
and  bangles,  but  I  stuck  to  my  old  locket  with  the 
babies'  heads." 

"Well,"  her  husband  said  discontentedly,  "all's  well 
that  ends  well,  I  suppose.  But  if  I'd  foreseen  all  this 
'Secrets  of  the  Zenana'  business,  I'm  dashed  if  I 
wouldn't — " 

Lucilla  cut  him  short.  "What  were  you  saying 
about  magic  when  I  came  in  ?" 

"Only  that  this  man,  Watkins — he's  the  husband  of 
your  ayah,  by  the  way — says  queer  things  go  on  here, 
and  pretends  to  believe  in  magic." 

"Do  you  know,  Antony" — Mrs.  Crespin  turned  to 
her  husband — "when  the  Raja  was  speaking  about  him 


160  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

— this  man  Watkins — down  there,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
his  face  was  somehow  familiar  to  me." 

Crespin  sat  bolt  upright,  and  his  tired  face  lit  with 
interest.  "There,  Doctor!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  did 
I  say?  I  knew  I'd  seen  him  before,  but  I'm  damned 
if  I  can  place  him." 

"I  wish  I  could  get  a  good  look  at  him,"  Lucilla  said 
thoughtfully.  And  as  she  spoke  Watkins  passed 
through  the  room  again,  carrying  four  blossoms  which 
he  took  to  the  dinner  table  and  laid  on  the  folded  ser 
viettes;  and  Traherne  saw  him. 

"That's  easy,"  he  told  her.  "There  he  is.  Shall 
I  call  him  in?" 

Mrs.  Crespin  nodded  eagerly.  "Do!  Say  I  want 
him  to  thank  his  wife  from  me." 

"Watkins!"  Traherne  called  him. 

"Sir?"  Watkins  responded  instantly,  but  without 
moving  from  the  table. 

"Mrs.  Crespin  would  like  to  speak  to  you."  And  at 
that  the  man  came  at  once,  and  stood  waiting,  inwardly 
curious,  outwardly  respectful. 

"I  hear,  Watkins,"  Mrs.  Crespin  told  him,  looking 
him  well  in  the  face — and  wishing  the  light  were  not 
at  his  back,  "that  the  ayah  that  so  kindly  attended  to 
me  is  your  wife." 

"That's  right,  ma'am,"  Watkins  said  staunchly 
enough.  Crespin  wondered  lazily  if  the  cockney  was 
fond — or  even  proud — of  his  native  wife.  Such  things 
always  interested  Antony  Crespin  rather. 

"She  gave  me  most  efficient  assistance,"  Mrs.  Crespin 
said,  speaking  very  deliberately,  that  she  might  study 
his  face  the  longer,  "and  as  she  seems  to  know  no  Eng 
lish,  I  couldn't  thank  her.  Will  you  be  good  enough 
to  tell  her  how  much  I  appreciated  all  she  did  for  me  ?" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  161 

"Thank  you  kindly,  ma'am,"  the  valet  said  as  if  he 
meant  it.  "She'll  be  proud  to  hear  it."  And  the  man 
looked  genuinely  pleased.  He  was  genuinely  pleased; 
for  the  shifty  little  cockney  was  fond  of  his  big  dark 
wife,  and  proud  of  her  too,  as  small  men  often  are 
of  wives  that  o'ertop  them.  And  it  was,  as  it  chanced, 
the  one  good  human  spot  in  Samuel  Watkins'  thin, 
brutal  heart.  "Is  that  all,  ma'am?"  he  asked  after  a 
pause — for  she  still  was  looking  at  him  as  if  she  might 
have  more  to  say. 

But  she  could  think  of  nothing  else,  and  she  be 
lieved  that  she  had  gained  her  point,  so  she  nodded 
pleasantly,  and  dismissed  him  with  a  pleasant,  "That's 
all,  thank  you,  Watkins." 

The  man  bowed,  and  went  back  to  the  loggia,  but  he 
passed  now  to  the  outer  side  of  the  dinner  table,  where, 
seeming  to  be  studying  it  still,  he  stood  watching  them 
warily.  They  involuntarily  drew  closer  together,  but 
Traherne,  seeming  to  be  watching  idly  the  kindling 
mountains  and  sky,  was  watching  Watkins  as  nar 
rowly  as  Watkins  watched  them. 

"You've  a  good  memory  for  faces,  Lu,"  the  Major 
said  to  his  wife.  "Do  you  spot  him?" 

'"Don't  let  him  see  we're  talking  about  him,"  she  cau 
tioned.  "I  believe  I  do  know  him,  but  I'm  not  quite 
sure.  Do  you  remember,"  she  said  slowly,  "the  first 
year  we  were  in  India,  there  was  a  man  in  the  Dorsets 
that  used  often  to  be  on  guard  outside  the  mess-room  ?" 

Antony  Crespin  sprang  to  his  feet.  "By  God,"  he 
cried,  "you've  hit  it !" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THEY  all  three  were  excited — even  Traherne, 
though  he  scarcely  showed  it — and  they  drew 
closer  together  eagerly.  What  importance  Mrs.  Cres- 
pin's  discovery,  if  she  was  right,  could  be  to  them,  or 
why  it  excited  them,  not  one  of  them  could  have  said ; 
but  in  such  threatening  of  shipwreck  as  theirs  agitated 
human  minds  see  in  every  straw  a  possible  life-boat, 
and  catch  at  it  anxiously.  They  clustered  together 
excitedly,  Lucilla  Crespin  still  in  her  seat,  the  two  men 
standing  close  before  her.  Traherne's  face  alert,  the 
woman's  eyes  sparkling,  and  Antony  Crespin  raised  his 
voice  exultantly.  "By  God,  you've  hit  it,  Lu!"  he  re 
peated. 

"Take  care!"  Traherne  cautioned  him  quickly,  not 
looking  at  Major  Crespin,  but  at  the  man  out  on  the 
loggia.  "He's  watching." 

Dr.  Traherne  was  right;  Watkins  was  watching 
stealthily,  and  too  was  straining  his  utmost  to  listen. 

"You  remember,"  Mrs.  Crespin  almost  whispered, 
"he  deserted,  Antony,  and  was  suspected  of  having 
murdered  a  woman  in  the  bazaar." 

"I  believe  it's  the  very  man,"  Crespin  muttered 
eagerly. 

"It's  certainly  very  like  him,"  his  wife  insisted. 

"And  he  swears  he's  never  been  in  India!"  Crespin 
said  with  a  nasty  laugh. 

"Under  the  circumstances,"  Dr.  Traherne  said  dryly, 

"he  naturally  would.    I  should." 

162 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  163 

"At  all  events  he's  not  a  man  to  be  trusted,"  Mrs. 
Crespin  added  regretfully. 

"Trusted!"  Crespin  retorted  impatiently,  "who 
thought  of  trusting  him?  Who'd  be  such  a  fool?  He 
with  that  damned  Uriah  Keep  face  of  his,  and  a  British 
man,  if  of  the  true  cockney  brand,  an  Englishman  act 
ing  as  a  body  servant  to  a  native!  Who'd  think  of 
trusting  him !" 

For  all  that  same  they  all  were  disappointed,  and 
they  all  knew  it.  Any  port  in  a  storm !  And,  if  misery 
has  to  put  up  with  strange  bed-fellows,  it  very  often 
seeks  them.  The  valet  was  English,  their  countryman, 
and  for  that  the  thought  of  each  of  them  had  fastened 
upon  him  as  a  possible  aid  or  means  of  escape.  And 
Lucilla  Crespin  was  honest  enough  to  say  so. 

"I  had  for  one,"  she  said  frankly.  "I  liked  his  wife. 
He  comes  from  home!  It  must  mean  something  to 
him  that  we  are  his  country-people.  But  now,  of  course 
— if  I'm  right,  and  I  think  I  am — and  especially  if  he 
thinks  we've  recognized  him — he'd  know  you,  Antony, 
of  course." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,  Lu,  country  and  all  that  means 
nothing  to  such  fellows,"  Major  Crespin  interrupted. 
And  Traherne  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Mrs.  Crespin,  he  won't  help  us,  whether  he's 
the  fellow  you  think  he  is  or  not.  I  know  his  breed. 
I  know  the  shape  of  his  head.  We  must  find  another 
way  out — that  is,  if  we  need  one — which  I  hope  we 
shan't." 

"But  you  think  we  shall  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  her  gravely.    "I  think  we  shall." 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  was  dressing  for  dinner.  There 
was  no  tire-man  with  him,  and  he  moved  about  his 
dressing-room  as  if  very  much  in  the  habit  of  waiting 


164  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

upon  himself — perhaps  an  old  varsity  habit  that  clung 
to  him  still  here  in  his  palace-fortress  on  his  native 
hills.  For  he  had  kept  no  valet  at  Cambridge.  A 
turban  newly  wound  he  wore  on  his  head,  but  his  low- 
cut  pumps,  his  well-creased  trousers,  were  quite  Euro 
pean,  and  so  were  the  silk  braces  that  held  them  up  to 
the  waist  line  of  his  immaculate  shirt.  His  waistcoat 
and  dinner  jacket  still  lay  on  a  chair,  but  his  studs  were 
in,  his  collar  was  on,  and  his  white  tie  was  beautifully 
done — if  he  had  tied  it  himself,  his  evening  tie  did  him 
great  credit.  And  he  had.  The  Raja  of  Rukh  was 
deft-fingered — he  could  dress  himself  from  skin  to 
button-hole  rose  without  worry  or  accident;  and  he 
usually  did — no  fumbling,  no  searching  for  studs,  no 
swear  words,  no  beading  of  sweat,  no  butter  fingers, 
neither  a  crease  nor  a  care.  Watkins  looked  the  per 
fect  valet,  but  Rukh  himself  had  trained  him  for  the 
part,  and  there  was  less  of  valet  than  of  varlet  in  Wat- 
kins'  office,  and  very  much  more  of  deeper  doing. 

The  Raja  stood  a  long  time  at  the  low  wide  window, 
and  looked  out  over  Rukh.  It  was  his,  all  that  he  saw 
was  his.  Not  a  wee  white  hill-mouse,  not  a  jeweled- 
and-lacquered  beetle,  not  a  leaf,  not  a  tiniest  grain 
but  was  his.  The  people  were  his — the  patient,  plod 
ding,  excitable  people.  The  cattle  were  his,  sure-footed, 
mountain  things  that  carried  the  water  his  people  drew, 
that  carried  the  wood  his  people  hewed.  The  caravans 
that  came  and  went  on  the  long,  periled  mountain  roads, 
now  in  snow  and  ice,  now  in  pelting  heat  and  thick 
flowered  and  perfumed  underbush,  a  camel  among  them 
sometimes,  but  almost  entirely  tiny,  sturdy,  sagacious 
ponies,  and  sweat-dripping  human  beasts  of  burden, 
bringing  him  and  his  miniature  but  costly  court  every 
conceivable  thing  from  marts  distant  and  near — glass 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  165 

from  Venice,  enamels  from  Japan,  lacquers  from  China, 
leathers  from  Russia,  wines  from  France  and  Portugal, 
fabrics  from  everywhere,  necessities  and  luxuries, 
tinned  asparagus  and  turtle  soup,  linens  from  Belfast, 
flesh-pots  for  him,  cotton  cloths  and  grains  for  his 
people — all  were  his.  And  he  loved  it  as  a  woman 
loves  her  young — a  ruthless,  iron-willed  man,  his  heart 
was  mother-soft  to  his  peasant  people.  The  little  huts 
hanging  there  on  the  mountain  edges,  with  the  smoke 
from  the  dung  fires  curling  out — telling  that  the  eve 
ning  meal  of  thin,  flat  cakes  was  cooking — were 
dearer  to  him  than  was  this  great,  palace  home  of  his 
own.  He  was  very  rich.  The  place  looked  poor  enough 
(all  but  his  own  fortress  coign)  and  the  people  were, 
but  the  hard,  rocky  place  belched  up  daily  wealth  for 
his  hidden  coffers.  Almost  numberless  coins  of  silver 
and  of  gold,  sodden  and  grimed  with  the  dust  of  ages, 
were  buried  beneath  the  palace,  in  a  rock-cut  fastness 
to  which  only  he  and  one  of  his  henchmen  knew  the 
way,  or  held  the  key,  and  the  bale-and-sack-bent  hill- 
men  and  the  sure-footed  creatures  who  toiled  back  and 
forth  from  Rukh  to  Bokhara  and  Kabul  by  night  as  by 
day,  taking  his  products,  bringing  the  price  of  them, 
never  ceased.  His  spending  was  prodigal,  but  his  in 
come  alone  more  than  sufficed  for  it.  And  his  buried 
treasure  grew. 

A  woman  came  unceremoniously  in,  and  he  turned 
to  her  instantly,  and  stood  and  waited  her  pleasure. 
The  woman  was  old,  poorly  though  comfortably  clad. 
There  were  many  rings  on  her  bare  feet's  toes,  but  the 
rings  were  of  little  value,  circlets  of  brass  and  of  silver 
coarsely  jeweled  with  uncut  gems  of  the  commoner 
pebble-like  sorts,  none  of  them  ''precious,"  and  all  of 
them  but  fragments — and  she  wore  no  other  ornament. 


166  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Her  wrinkled  skin  was  exactly  the  color  of  the  saffron 
stuff  that  formed  her  only  visible  garment,  and  the 
wrinkled  saffron  skin  was  as  coarse  as  the  saffron 
woolen  stuff.  Her  white  hair  was  uncovered,  her 
strong  eyebrows  streaked  her  yellow  brow  like  twin 
patches  of  persistent  snow  on  some  rough  brown  ledge 
of  mountain  rock;  palpably  a  peasant  woman,  hill- 
born,  hill-bred,  untutored — though  her  hands,  mottled 
and  soft  with  age,  looked  to  have  done  no  work — and 
the  Raja  of  Rukh  smiled  at  her  tenderly,  and  waited 
her  pleasure,  as  meekly  as  a  timid  child  who  feared 
and  anticipated  punishment  or,  at  the  best,  bitter  scold 
ing  from  an  exigeant  and  petulant  mother.  And  it 
was  just  that  that  he  did  expect  and  very  much  dreaded. 
She  usually  came  here  to  berate  him,  and  she  never 
failed  to  do  it,  if  she  found  him  in  European  garments, 
or  had  heard  that  European  guests  were  being  harbored 
and  entertained. 

The  Raja  ruled  Rukh — all  there  obeyed  him  abjectly 
— all  but  Ak-kok,  the  old  peasant  woman.  She  obeyed 
no  one,  and  feared  no  one  or  thing,  not  even  the  Green 
Goddess,  not  the  sacred  serpents,  not  the  man-eating 
beasts  that  prowled  from  the  mountains  and  wilds  to 
maul  and  devour.  She  obeyed  no  one,  she  feared  noth 
ing,  and  though  she  worshiped  him  fiercely,  she  bullied 
the  Raja  of  Rukh  in  season  and  out.  And  he  loved  her 
and  feared  her,  salaamed  to  her  too,  and  called  her 
"Mother,"  caressed  her  when  she  would  brook  it — for 
she  had  suckled  him,  and  the  babe  she  had  left  to  other 
care  when  she  had  come  to  the  palace  to  do  it  had 
sickened  and  died.  She  had  not  seemed  to  care  then, 
forbidding  her  heart  to  quicken  or  falter  a  single  beat, 
forbidding  her  heart  to  feel  or  to  know,  lest  it  curdle 
her  milk.  And  the  babe  had  been  her  only  one,  and 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  167 

its  father  was  newly  dead.  But  when  the  baby  prince 
was  weaned,  she  had  let  her  pent-up,  drugged  grief 
have  its  way.  She  had  covered  her  face  in  her  robe, 
and  gone  from  the  palace,  wailing  and  beating  her 
breasts — still  sore  from  a  festered  teething-grip,  sorer 
still  for  the  babe  lips  that  had  been  denied  their  milk 
— had  gone  to  the  place  on  the  hillside  where  the  burn 
ing-place  stood,  and  had  joined  the  mourners  squatted 
about  a  reeking  pile — a  child's  as  it  chanced — and  when 
the  little  skull  had  cracked  open  with  that  sound  like 
which  there  is  no  other,  and  the  mourners  had  sobbed 
and  cried,  Ak-kok  had  laughed,  rent  the  air  with  her 
laughing,  had  torn  her  garments  and  strewn  the  pile 
with  them,  had  danced,  shrieking  with  laughter,  had 
torn  at  her  face  and  breasts  till  her  blood  ran,  and  then 
— for  none  dared  stay  her — had  turned  and  tottered 
away,  still  lashing  the  day  with  her  laughing.  It  was 
winter — and  two  nights  and  a  day  had  passed  before 
they  found  her,  out  in  a  desolate,  desert  place  up  on 
the  mountains,  nearly  naked,  raving  and  babbling. 

We  punish  our  insane;  Orientals  succor  and  tend 
them. 

Tenderly  they  carried  mad  Ak-kok  back  to  the  palace, 
gently  they  laid  her  down,  never  they  left  her,  never 
they  chided  or  thwarted  or  vexed  her.  And — a  year 
and  more  after — her  wits  (as  we  perhaps  witlessly  call 
our  human  sense  of  human  ills)  came  back.  And  such 
work  as  she  chose  to  do  she  did,  such  things  as  she  bade 
were  done.  She  chose  to  sew  with  the  girls  who  em 
broidered  and  beaded.  Never  she  spoke  to'  a  child, 
rarely  she  looked  at  one,  except  the  prince  whom  she 
had  suckled.  Little  by  little  her  love  crept  back  to  him, 
and  then  her  needles  and  silks  and  baskets  of  sorted 
beads,  of  tinsel  threads,  trays  of  seed-pearls  and  of 


168  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

beetles'  gold-and-emerald  backs  had  filled  less  and  less 
of  her  time,  the  royal  boy  more  and  more.  And  when 
he  had  wived  she  had  disliked  all  his  brides,  but  had 
established  herself  nurse-in-chief  to  the  babies  they  had 
borne. 

They  were  twenty-five  now,  the  offspring  of  the 
Raja,  the  nurslings  of  Ak-kok.  Not  one  had  died.  La- 
swak,  a  boy  of  two  now,  was  the  father's  favorite,  and 
old  Ak-kok  loved  La-swak  more  than  she  had  loved 
aught  else  or  all  else  before,  even  tenfold,  more  than 
the  Raja  and  father  did. 

The  Raja  waited. 

Ak-kok  spoke  his  name  hoarsely — no  prefix,  no  ges 
ture  of  respect,  not  even  one  of  berating — just  his 
name  flung  passionately  out  at  him  in  the  old  woman's 
peasant  guttural. 

The  Raja  salaamed,  and  waited  her  tirade. 

But  the  woman  took  no  heed  of  the  long  broadcloth 
trousers  he  wore,  no  heed  of  the  cerise  silk  elastic  that 
braced  them,  none  of  coat  and  vest  on  the  chair.  She 
had  not  seen  them.  And  she  spoke  no  word  of  rebuke. 
It  was  fear  that  convulsed  her,  not  anger.  A  bead  of 
blood  came  from  her  nostril,  and  trickled  down  on  to 
her  withered  lip.  She  did  not  feel  it. 

Twice  she  tried  to  speak  again,  before  she  did. 

"La-swak!"  she  moaned. 

The  Raja  sprang  to  her,  caught  at  her  shoulder.  He 
could  not  speak,  but  she  mastered  herself,  and  answered 
him. 

"The  cramp  again.  His  limbs  are  stiff  and  cold. 
We  cannot  soothe  him.  He  cries  for  you."  She  gath 
ered  the  man's  hand  in  hers,  and  led  him  from  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

HAND  in  hand,  the  Raja,  coatless  and  waistcoat- 
less,  the  one  gem  in  his  turban  flashing  brilliantly 
in  the  waning  afternoon  light  of  the  long,  twisting 
corridors,  his  cerise  braces  streaking  his  white-shirted 
back,  as  if  a  broad  thong  had  lashed  it,  her  saffron 
cloth  now  russet-dark,  now  red-gold  as  they  passed 
through  the  shadows  great  porphyry  pillars  threw,  or 
into  the  light  from  open  windows  and  arches.  She  led 
him,  and  he  clung  to  her  hand,  as  he  had  at  twilight 
when  he  had  done  his  first  walking  with  her  clasp  for 
his  stay  and  confidence. 

It  was  a  long,  long  way  this  that  they  took  through 
the  vast  palace  of  Rukh ;  to  him  it  seemed  endless.  At 
last  she  paused  by  a  closed  carven  door.  Two  scimi- 
tared  men  on  guard,  drew  aside  and  made  obeisance. 

Rukh  caught  his  breath,  smothering  an  oath. 
"Mother,"  he  sobbed,  "will  he  die?" 

Ak-kok  lifted  her  thin  old  arms  in  caress  and  com 
fort  to  his  face,  and  he  caught  her  wrists  and  held 
them  there. 

"Now  I  have  brought  you,  he  will  drink  perhaps  the 
cup  I  have  made.  If  he  drinks,  the  cramp  may  pass, 
and  all  may  be  well." 

The  Raja  motioned  towards  the  heavy  door,  Ak-kok 
signaled  one  of  the  guards,  the  man  ran  and  opened  it, 
Rukh  put  up  a  trembling  hand  and  lifted  the  curtain  of 
broad-striped  silk  inside  the  door,  and  he  and  Ak-kok 
entered  the  room. 

169 


170  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

On  a  low  native  bed,  ropes  threaded  across  sides 
and  ends  of  chased  and  beaten  silver,  a  child  lay  moan 
ing  on  a  snow-leopard  pelt.  Charms — a  tiger's  eye, 
a  cheeta's  claw,  a  little  jade  god — hung  in  his  flat 
embroidered  cap  of  green  silk,  charms  strung  on  a 
red  silk  cord  hung  about  his  neck,  charms  dangled 
over  his  acorn-shaped  little  belly,  rich  bangles  clinked 
on  his  arms  as  he  tossed  them  in  pain,  and  jeweled 
anklets  circled  above  each  dimpled  foot — and  he  wore 
nothing  else.  Toys  strewed  the  silk  floor-carpets,  half 
a  dozen  serving  women,  wild-eyed  and  useless,  clut 
tered  the  room — all  but  one  who  was  kneeling  down 
watching  a  saucepan  that  hummed  on  a  low  brazier. 
A  girl  richly  robed,  heavily  jeweled,  exquisitely  beau 
tiful,  crouched  on  the  floor  weeping  piteously  but  with 
out  a  sound.  She  lurched  a  little  towards  Rukh  as 
he  passed  her,  not  rising,  just  moving  a  little  to  lay 
her  face  on  his  shoe.  He  paid  her  no  attention,  but 
stumbled  down  by  their  child :  La-swak,  whom  he  loved 
more  than  he  loved  Rukh. 

"The  cramp  is  passing  a  little,  my  lord,  I  think,"  the 
girl  whispered.  Still  he  gave  her  neither  word  nor 
glance.  And  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  She  had 
seen  his  European  clothes,  if  old  Ak-kok  had  not,  and 
she  knew  that  when  her  husband  and  lord  wore  Euro 
pean  clothes  there  were  European  women — or,  a  thou 
sand  times  worse — a  European  woman;  and  a  cramp 
worse  than  over-fed,  sugar-plum-stuffed  La-swak  ever 
had  felt,  or  ever  would,  writhed  and  twisted  his 
mo'/  -r. 

The  Ranee  of  Rukh,  and  her  sister  wives,  of  whom 
this  was  the  youngest,  were  fairly  good  friends.  They 
ate  their  hearts  out,  and  beat  their  ayahs  when  a  white 
woman's  shadow  fell  on  the  palace  floors.  And  Ak- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  171 

kok  went  farther.  She  took  the  dance-girls  for  granted, 
saw  to  it  often  that  they  were  fairly  fed,  and  softly 
clad,  but  she,  watching  her  chance,  had  beaten  a 
French  danseuse  once  till  the  dancer  never  would  dance 
again. 

Rukh  flung  himself  down  beside  the  child's  low 
bed;  La-swak  held  out  his  arms,  and  smiled,  and  the 
half-clad  Raja  caught  him  and  held  him  close — all 
that  he  loved  most  in  the  world,  and  loved  most  purely, 
cuddled  and  cuddling  tenderly  there,  with  little  brown, 
jeweled-cap-crowned  head  pressed  contentedly  against 
the  stiff-starched  shirt  and  the  cerise  silk  braces.  La- 
swak  put  up  a  dark  dimpled  hand  and  snatched  at  the 
brilliant  braces.  His  moaning  had  ceased.  Ak-kok 
had  taken  the  silver  pannikin  from  the  brazier,  and 
stood  at  the  open  window  pouring  the  liquid  it  held 
back  and  forth  from  pannikin  and  cup  till  it  was  cooled 
to  satisfy  her.  She  brought  it  now,  and  Rukh  took 
the  cup  and  held  it  to  the  child's  lips.  La-swak  shud 
dered  a  little,  but  he  drank  it  all,  while  the  father 
fondled  and  encouraged  him — then  gave  back  the  cup. 

"He  is  not  very  ill?"  the  Raja  stated  rather  than 
asked. 

"Not  now,"  old  Ak-kok  answered.  "He  will  do 
now.  He  soon  will  sleep — better  he  be  left  alone  now." 

One  by  one  the  others  went  out.  The  young  mother 
went  first,  and  the  women  followed  her  one  by  one. 
The  girl  mother  rose  reluctantly,  and  hesitated  a  mo 
ment,  hoping  her  husband  might  give  her  a  word  or  a 
glance ;  but  he  did  not,  and  she  went  slowly  out,  hang 
ing  her  head,  veiling  beneath  their  blue-veined  lids 
the  rage  and  pain  in  her  great,  black  eyes.  Rukh 
felt  nothing  but  kindness  for  the  girl :  she  had  borne 
him  La-swak,  she  had  bored  and  had  disappointed 


172  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

him  less  than  any  other  of  his  women  ever  had,  and  he 
and  her  father  were  close-sworn  friends — they  had 
throttled  a  half-grown  wild  beast  together,  and  speared 
a  great  snake,  they  had  shared  war  and  blood-feuds, 
and  frolic  and  schemes ;  but  Rukh  was  engrossed  with 
his  boy.  He  did  not  even  see  Ko-sak  go,  scarcely 
knew  she'd  been  there. 

The  child  dozed.  Ak-kok  tugged  at  Rukh's  arm, 
and  he  rose  and  too  went  quietly  out,  through  the 
long,  twisted  corridors  with  the  great  columns  and 
arches  back  to  his  own  room. 

Just  before  he  left  the  harem  quarters  he  came 
upon  a  girl,  almost  a  child,  sitting  idly  and  alone,  on 
the  wide  seat  of  a  window's  embrasure,  the  gay  strip 
of  embroidered  stuff  she'd  been  working  lying  neg 
lected  where  it  had  fallen  from  her  listless  fingers  on 
to  the  mosaicked  floor  at  her  feet.  She  caught  his  foot 
fall,  turned  her  head  carelessly,  flushed  passionately, 
rose  quickly,  and  salaamed  deeply.  Rukh  was  in  no 
mood  for  such  companionship  now,  and  well  could 
have  spared  the  encounter — but  he  paused,  and  spoke 
to  her  kindly,  laying  his  hands  on  her  shoulders;  for 
she  was  big  with  child.  A  wild  rose  stained  the  pale 
amber  of  her  delicate  face,  the  terror  faded  out  of 
her  dark  childish  eyes;  and  Rukh  knew  she  would 
have  pressed  her  face  to  him,  and  clung,  staying  him 
so,  had  she  dared. 

"Nay,  Zu-kunl,"  he  told  her  soothingly,  "it  is  not 
too  much,  it  lasts  not  long,  your  midwife  is  skilful, 
the  auguries  are  kind,  and  the  joy  that  it  brings  is  a 
woman's  sweetest  and  proudest." 

"My  lord!"  she  whispered.  "If  the  child  should 
be  but  a  girl  ?" 

He  shrugged  indulgently.     "Some  must,"  he  said, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  173 

"and  if  it  is  as  fair,  and  as  obedient  as  you,  I  will  for 
give  it  and  thee." 

The  girl  caught  his  hand  and  bent  her  brow  to  it. 
Her  eyes  pleaded  with  him  to  stay  with  her  a  little, 
and  he  saw  it.  He  touched  her  sheened  hair  fondly, 
as  one  pats  a  dog,  nodded  gayly,  and  went  on  his  way. 

The  girl's  face  quivered,  and  tears  gathered  in  her 
big,  frightened  eyes.  But  she  only  salaamed  again — 
it  hurt — and  whispered,  "My  lord !"  meekly  and  softly. 
Should  she  ever  see  him  again?  He  came  to  her  but 
seldom,  the  lord  she  adored,  the  only  man,  save  father 
and  brothers,  she  had  seen  since  her  childhood,  the  only 
man  she  ever  would  see  again  though  she  lived  to  be 
as  old  as  Ak-kok.  Should  she  ever  see  him  again? 
She  had  not  seen  him  often.  Would  he  come  once 
more?  Already  she  knew  that  her  pain  was  on  her. 
She  waited,  battling  it  where  she  stood,  until  the  great 
outer  door  was  closed  and  barred  behind  him,  and 
then  groped  her  way  to  the  darkened  inner  room  where 
the  midwife  waited,  and  all  lay  ready  for  her  agony. 

And  the  Raja  of  Rukh  whistled  happily  as  he  went 
back  to  finish  his  dressing,  happy  because  La-swak 
was  well  again. 

And  that  was  why  the  three  English  people  waited 
so  long  alone  in  the  room  below,  and  the  chef  in  the 
palace  kitchen  fumed,  and  would  have  given  notice, 
or,  at  least,  sworn,  had  he  dared. 

Rukh  had  thought  of  the  English  doctor  below  as 
he  knelt  by  his  child,  and,  had  La-swak's  illness  not 
gone  as  swiftly  as  it  had  come,  would  have  summoned 
Traherne,  and  entreated  his  help.  If  he  had,  there'd 
have  been  a  fine  Oriental  to-do  in  one  harem  room, 
and  old  Ak-kok  would  have  achieved  something  little 
short  of  murder,  or  have  gone  raving  mad  again  in 


174  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

attempting  it.  And  this  story  need  not  have  been 
told — for  it  would  have  ended  there  with  handshak 
ings  and  gifts,  and  safe  escort  homeward :  for  vicious, 
brutal,  implacable,  the  Raja  of  Rukh  would  not  have 
proved  ungrateful:  it  was  not  in  his  Asian  mountain 
blood. 

The  Raja  finished  his  dressing  leisurely,  and  went 
to  his  guests.  But  the  great  ruby  no  longer  blazed 
in  his  turban.  La-swak  had  demanded  it,  when  he'd 
drunk,  and  Rukh  had  unfastened  it,  and  it  was  close 
shut  now  in  the  sleeping  baby's  little  brown  hand,  and 
the  osprey  of  diamond  specks  was  spread  out  fan- 
like,  sparkling  brilliantly  on  La-swak's  fat  little  brown 
paunch. 

But  the  Raja  wore  one  jewel — he  might  have  lost 
that  too  had  he  worn  it  to  the  sweetmeat-sick-room — 
the  ribbon  and  star  of  a  Russian  order  which  only  the 
anointed  hand  of  the  Little  White  Father  could  give, 
and  did  not  give  often.  Alas  for  it  now ! 

Much  as  they  feared  him,  they  were  glad  to  see  him : 
the  uncertainty  was  growing  increasingly  intolerable, 
and,  frankly,  they  all  three  were  hungry. 

He  bowed  to  the  men,  and  went  to  Mrs.  Crespin. 
"Pray  forgive  me,  Madam,"  he  said,  "for  being  the 
last  to  appear.  The  fact  is,  I  had  to  hold  a  sort  of 
Cabinet  Council — or  shall  I  say  a  conclave  of  prelates  ? 
— with  questions  arising  out  of  your  most  welcome 
arrival." 

It  was  perfectly  true.  There  had  been  grave  talk 
in  the  Council  Chamber  of  Rukh,  before  the  Raja  had 
left  it  to  lay  off  his  native  dress,  and  "change  for  din 
ner." 

Before  Mrs.  Crespin  could  answer,  the  Major  said 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  175 

eagerly,  "May  we  hope,  Raja,  that  you  were  laying 
a  dawk  for  our  return?" 

Rukh  laughed  pleasantly.  "Pray,  pray,  Major,  let 
us  postpone  that  question  for  the  moment.  First  let 
us  fortify  ourselves ;  after  dinner  we  will  talk  seriously. 
If  you  are  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  desert  me,  must  I 
not  conclude,  Madam,  that  you  are  dissatisfied  with 
your  reception?" 

"How  could  we  possibly  be  so  ungrateful,  Your 
Highness,"  she  said.  "Your  hospitality  overwhelms 
us." 

Rukh  swept  his  eyes  over  her  slowly,  as  she  stood 
before  him — she  had  risen  at  his  entrance — and  then 
he  said  deferentially,  "I  trust  my  Mistress  of  the  Robes 
furnished  you  with  all  you  required?" 

The  Englishmen  frowned  a  little  at  his  question — 
they  did  not  dare  go  beyond  that — but  Lucilla  smiled 
gravely,  and  told  him  brightly,  "With  all  and  more 
than  all.  She  offered  me  quite  a  bewildering  array 
of  gorgeous  apparel." 

"Oh,  I  am  glad."  There  was  just  a  caressing  note 
in  the  Raja's  voice,  more  than  a  hint  of  velvet,  as 
there  so  often  is  in  the  high-bred  Asiatic  voice  when 
it  speaks  a  foreign  tongue.  And  again  the  long,  close- 
lidded  Oriental  eyes  swept  her  slowly  with  a  something 
of  appraisement.  Traherne  saw  it,  and  chafed,  but 
what  could  he  do? — "I  had  hoped  that  perhaps  your 
choice  might  have  fallen  on  something  more — "  his 
eyes  indicated  "decollete"  even  more  than  the  graceful 
gesture  of  his  slender  olive  hand.  It  was  delicately 
done,  but  his  unspoken  meaning  was  unmistakable. 
Traherne  threw  an  ugly  quick  look  to  Major  Crespin, 
but  Crespin  had  strolled  to  the  loggia  opening,  and 


176  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

seemed  to  have  seen  or  heard  nothing.  Had  he  gone 
to  be  nearer  the  big  wine-cooler  ?  Traherne  wondered 
viciously.  But  again  what  could  Crespin  do  ?  Nothing 
that  would  not  aggravate  their  peril.  "But  no,"  the 
soft  silken  voice  said  on,  "I  was  wrong — Madam's 
taste  is  irreproachable." 

A  white-clad  servant,  with  the  Raja's  livery  of 
green  and  silver  and  gold  twisted  in  his  puggree,  came 
in  bringing  cocktails.  Lucilla  Crespin  was  glad  of 
the  interruption,  and  made  the  man's  approach  serve 
for  that.  She  shook  her  head  at  the  salver  he  prof 
fered  her,  and  moved  away  to  a  table,  and  picked 
up  a  book. 

The  men  drank.  Traherne's  throat  felt  as  dry  as 
Crespin's  for  once,  but  when  Rukh  put  down  his  glass 
he  followed  Mrs.  Crespin,  and  glanced  at  the  yellow 
paper-bound  volume  she  held. 

"You  see,  Madam,"  he  said  to  her,  "we  fall  behind 
the  age  here.  We  are  still  in  the  Anatole  France 
period.  If  he  bores  you,  here" — he  offered  her  another 
book — "is  a  Maurice  Barres  that  you  may  find  more 
amusing." 

"Oh,"  Mrs.  Crespin  told  him,  as  she  took  it — she 
had  to  take  it — "I  too  am  in  the  Anatole  France 
period,  I  assure  you."  She  glanced  a  little  apprehen 
sively  at  the  titled  back  of  the  newer  book,  and  a  shade 
of  relief  touched  her  face.  '  'Sur  la  Pierre  Blanche' 
— isn't  that  the  one  you  were  recommending  to  me, 
Dr.  Traherne?"  she  asked  over  her  shoulder. 

"Yes,  1  like  it  better  than  some  of  his  later  books," 
Traherne  replied,  joining  them  at  the  book-covered 
table. 

The  Raja  spoke  again  to  Lucilla.  "Are  you  fond 
of  music,  Mrs.  Crespin?  But,  of  course,  you  are!" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  177 

"Why?"  she  demanded  gayly. 

Rukh  looked  into  her  eyes.  "It  is  written — there," 
he  told  her  softly.  "Suppose  we  have  some  during 
dinner."  He  went,  as  he  spoke,  to  the  gramophone 
in  the  corner,  and  began  turning  over  a  stack  of 
records  that  lay  beside  it,  and  put  one  of  them  care 
fully  on  the  top  of  the  pile,  just  as  Watkins  came 
noiselessly  in  from  a  door,  and  the  major-domo  as 
silently  from  another.  "Watkins,  just  start  that  top 
record,  will  you.  Ah !" — the  native  servant,  salaaming 
had  spoken — "Madame  est  serviel  Allow  me — " 

And  Mrs.  Crespin  laid  her  white  hand  on  the 
brown  man's  black-sleeved  arm. 

"I  can  recommend  this  caviare,  Major,"  Rukh  said 
when  they  were  seated — "and  you'll  take  a  glass  of 
maraschino  with  it — Russian  fashion?" 

Crespin  would. 

The  gramophone  reeled  out  its  first,  slow  bars,  and 
a  wonderful  sunset  flooded  the  loggia. 

"Oh,  what  is  that?"  Lucilla  asked  after  she'd  listened 
a  moment. 

"Don't  you  know  it?"  Rukh  questioned. 

"Oh,  yes,  but  I  can't  think  what  it  is." 

"Gounod's  'Funeral  March  of  a  Marionette,' "  the 
Raja  said  in  an  odd  voice,  an  odd  look  in  his  nar 
rowed  eyes — "a  most  humorous  composition.  May  I 
pour  you  a  glass  of  maraschino,  Madam?" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  dinner  was  sumptuous;  better  still,  it  was 
perfect.  What  a  magician  wealth  was,  Traherne 
mused;  and  Major  Crespin  enjoyed  it  immensely.  The 
Raja  was  a  jolly  good  fellow,  whatever  the  color  of 
his  skin,  damned  if  he  wasn't.  Any  chap  who  did 
one  as  well  as  that  was  a  man  and  a  brother:  the 
excellent  food,  the  exquisite  and  welcomer  wines,  had 
lulled  to  fast  sleep  the  English  soldier's  every  fear. 
He  was  at  peace  with  all  the  universe,  Asia  and  Ger 
many  included,  especially  Asia :  to  hell  with  silly  race- 
distinctions ! — good  fizz  knew  none. 
.  The  Funeral  March  pulsed  through  the  loggia.  The 
sky  was  the  color  of  blood.  When  the  record  was 
finished,  Rukh  called  for  no  other — Watkins  waiting 
at  the  gramophone  had  a  sinecure. 

Antony  Crespin  was  drinking  too  much.  Traherne 
watched  him  through  angry  eyes;  Rukh,  not  seeming 
to  look,  with  an  inscrutable  smile.  Lucilla  was  nervous 
and  wretched.  Surely  he  could  have  spared  her  this — 
here!  He  might  have  controlled  his  craving  until  he 
had  reached  his  own  room,  and  have  asked  there  for 
what  he  craved — he  would  only  have  needed  to  ask  in 
this  palace  of  sumptuous  and  pressed  hospitality. 

But  Crespin  could  not  wait.  He  was  doing  his  best. 
And,  Traherne  thanked  heaven  for  it,  he  was  eating 
heartily. 

Traherne  ate  well  too — doing  it  in  careful  fore 
thought  of  what  might  be  before  him  to  do — or  to  at 
tempt.  And  Lucilla  Crespin  ate  as  much  as  she  could. 
She  too  was  doing  her  best. 

178 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  179 

The  Raja  ate  sparingly,  without  seeming  to  do  so, 
and  drank  very  little.  But  he  chatted  entertainingly 
all  the  time:  the  perfect  host,  considerate  and  quietly 
cordial — and  if  the  woman  who  sat  on  his  right  hand 
received  most  of  his  attention,  and  all  his  deference, 
he,  in  that,  paid  their  own  European  custom  the  sin 
cere  flattery  of  imitation. 

The  meal  was  long — not  too  long.  The  sunset  glow 
faded,  great  stars  pulsed  green,  white  and  gold  in  the 
strip  of  purple  sky  between  the  o'ertopping,  high,  snow- 
covered  mountains.  Dessert  in  great  cut-gold  bowls 
was  put  on  the  table.  Watkins  came  and  touched  a 
switch,  and  when  the  table  sparkled  with  electric  lights 
among  the  flowers  on  it,  and  others  above  it,  came  and 
stood  behind  his  master's  chair.  The  old  major-domo 
and  his  white-clad  satellites  with  the  Raja's  livery  of 
gold,  silver  and  green  twisted  in  their  turbans  hovered 
watchfully  round. 

A  child  cried  somewhere — out  in  the  mountain-pass 
open  it  sounded — and  the  Raja  paused  suddenly  in 
what  he  was  saying,  a  look  of  fear  in  his  face,  and 
dark  as  his  skin  was,  it  seemed  to  whiten  and  stiffen. 
Both  Lucilla  Crespin  and  Dr.  Traherne  saw  and  won 
dered — but  Traherne  made  a  quick  note  in  his  mind: 
he  thought  he  had  learned  the  tiger-man's  raw,  vulner 
able  point — and  he  would  not  forget :  the  clue  might  be 
useful  to  them  in  their  need.  It  all  passed  in  an  in 
stant.  The  Raja  laughed  lightly,  and  went  on  with  his 
story.  La-swak's  room  lay  far  on  the  other  side  of 
the  palace ;  no  sound  from  it  could  reach  here.  And,  if 
aught  again  had  ailed  La-swak,  Ak-kok  would  have 
come  or  have  sent,  though  a  bevy  of  Western  kings 
had  been  dining,  or  even  an  Eastern  god ! 

"What  a  heavenly  night !"  Mrs.  Crespin  murmured, 


180  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  words  were  trite ;  and  because  they  were  trite  they 
were  lame  and  inadequate.  It  was  starlight  on  the 
Himalayas.  Every  star  hung  out  from  the  deep,  vel 
vet  sky  as  if  chiseled  and  cut  from  precious  stones,  and 
the  snow  of  a  hundred  peaks  and  slopes  literally  re 
flected  their  jewel-colors,  and  the  crisp  night  air  was 
warm  too  by  the  fragrance  of  the  "evergreens"  that 
soaked  it.  The  night  was  still,  but  it  pulsed  with  its 
own  beauty,  and  here  and  there  where  some  stray  eddy 
of  soft  wind  caught  it  a  tree  on  a  lower  slope  was  bend 
ing  as  if  in  prayer. 

"Yes,"  Rukh  assented  carelessly — careless  of  what 
was  ordinary,  not  of  her,  or  her  words — "our  summer 
climate  is  far  from  bad." 

"The  air  is  like  champagne,"  she  said  with  a  long, 
slow  breath  of  enjoyment.  "Was  she  enjoying  it?" 
Traherne  asked  himself.  "Could  she  enjoy  it  here?" 

"A  little  over  frappe  for  some  tastes,"  the  Raja  sug 
gested.  "What  do  you  say,  Madam?  Shall  we  have 
coffee  indoors?  There  is  an  edge  to  the  air  at  these 
altitudes,  as  soon  as  the  sun  has  gone  down." 

"Yes,  I  do  feel  a  little  chilly  now,"  she  owned,  and 
she  shivered  slightly. 

"Watkins,  send  for  a  shawl  for  Madam,"  Rukh  said 
in  quick  concern,  rising  quickly.  The  others  rose  with 
him,  of  course.  They  had  to  play  the  social  game  with 
this  native  princelet  upon  whose  whim  so  much  de 
pended  for  them.  Traherne  was  playing  the  game  very 
valiantly ;  Lucilla  Crespin  was  not  sorry  to  go  back  to 
the  warmer  room;  and  the  Major  felt  something  of 
actual  deference  to  the  host,  no  matter  the  shade  of 
his  skin,  -who  had  given  him  such  a  rippin'  dinner — 
and  such  wines !  At  a  word  from  his  master  the  major- 
domo  touched  a  second  switch  in  one  of  the  pillars  of 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  181 

the  loggia  opening,  and  the  chandelier  and  wall-lamps 
of  the  salon  burst  into  brilliant  light.  Rukh  offered 
his  arm  to  Mrs.  Crespin,  and  again  the  Englishwoman 
had  to  take  it. 

"Let  me  find  you  a  comfortable  seat,  Madam,"  he 
said  as  he  led  her  in,  and  bowed  when  he  had  guided 
her  to  a  great  lounge  chair.  "When  the  fire  is  lighted, 
I  think  you  will  find  this  quite  pleasant.  Take  the 
other  chair,  Major.  I  must  really  refurnish  this  room," 
he  observed  critically.  "My  ancestors  had  no  notion 
of  comfort.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  use  the  room  only  on 
state  occasions,  like  the  present" — again  he  bent  to 
Mrs.  Crespin.  "I  have  a  much  more  modern  snuggery 
upstairs,  which  I  hope  you  will  see  to-morrow."  It 
was  quite  courteously  said,  but  there  was  invitation  in 
his  soft  black  eyes,  a  hint  of  it  and  of  caress  in  his 
voice.  Lucilla  caught  it,  and  so  did  Basil  Traherne. 
She  gave  no  sign,  but  Traherne  still  standing  at  the 
loggia  opening,  looking  out  into  the  night,  clenched  his 
strong,  brown  fingers  until  his  nails  cut  the  flesh.  But 
he  did  not  dare  turn.  And  Crespin — poor  chap — heard 
nothing,  saw  nothing.  He  was  feeling  a  little  sleepy, 
and  quite  full  of  content,  and  he  smiled  a  lazy  approval 
at  the  servants  bringing  in  coffee,  liqueurs,  cigars  and 
cigarettes. 

"Star-gazing,  Dr.  Traherne?"  the  Raja  asked  him. 

Traherne  turned  at  that,  and  came  to  the  others.  "I 
beg  your  pardon,"  he  said. 

"Dr.  Traherne  is  quite  an  astronomer,"  Lucilla  told 
the  Raja. 

"As  much  at  home  with  the  telescope  as  with  the 
microscope,  eh?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Traherne  told  him,  "I'm  no  astronomer. 
I  can  pick  out  a  few  of  the  constellations, — that's  all." 


182  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"For  my  part,"  the  Raja  declared,  "I  look  at  the 
stars  as  little  as  possible.  As  a  spectacle  they're 
monotonous,  and  they  don't  bear  thinking  of.  Ah,  here 
it  is!"  He  took  the  shawl  the  woman  had  brought, 
and  placed  it  delicately  about  Mrs.  Crespin's  shoulders. 

"What  an.  exquisite  shawl !"  she  exclaimed,  drawing 
an  end  of  it  through  her  fingers. 

No  self-respecting  trousseau  in  affluent  Christendom 
would  have  thought  of  lacking  its  "Indian  shawl"  fifty 
years  ago,  and  one  winter — just  thirty-seven  years  ago 
to  be  exact  (even  at  the  risk  of  owning  to  old-age  well 
reached)  every  well-dressed  woman  in  Chicago  had 
one  of  the  costly  things  hacked  up  into  cloaks  and  dol 
mans.  And  beautiful  some  of  those  "Indian  shawls" 
were — and  (more  to  their  advertised  point)  probably 
most  of  them  had  been  made  in  India.  But  this  was  a 
shawl  not  as  those.  It  was  warmer,  softer  and  incom 
parably  more  thin.  From  the  burning  Indian  red  of  its 
silky,  sheeny  center  every  color  on  the  Asian  palette 
blended  and  blurred  into  and  accentuated  all  the  others, 
and  so  did  half  a  score  of  Oriental  motifs — turquoise- 
blue,  apple-green,  orange  and  emerald  touched  milk- 
white  and  velvet-black,  crimson,  rose,  ruby  and  scarlet, 
rippled  like  the  notes  of  a  scale  masterly  played,  and 
the  half -hinted  motifs  that  patterned  it  as  indescribably 
as  the  fallen  snow  patterns  the  panes  it  frosts  in  the 
Canadian  midwinter,  and  the  beautiful  curves  of  the 
"pineapple"  and  "palm-leaf"  ran  through  them  all  like 
its  theme  through  a  poem. 

"It  is  the  most  beautiful  made-thing  I  have  ever 
seen,"  Mrs.  Crespin  said. 

"And  most  becoming."  Rukh  smiled  into  her  eyes 
as  he  spoke,  his  look  not  quite  as  light  as  his  words. 
"Don't  you  think  so,  Doctor  ?"  he  added  a  shade  quiz- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  183 

zically,  for  Traherne  was  gazing  fixedly  at  Mrs.  Cres- 
pin,  with  a  look  too  in  his  eyes.  He  flushed  at  the 
Raja's  words  and  shifted  his  glance  without  answering; 
Rukh  laughed  softly,  and  let  it  pass. 

"My  Mistress  of  the  Robes  has  chosen  well!"  He 
motioned  his  beautiful,  slim  hands  in  noiseless  ap 
plause  to  the  ayah,  who  grinned,  and  went,  as  she'd 
come,  not  making  a  sound. 

"Why  won't  the  stars  bear  thinking  of,  Raja?"  Lu- 
cilla  asked. 

"Well,  dear  lady,  don't  you  think  they're  rather  os 
tentatious  ?  I  was  guilty  of  a  little  showing  off  to-day, 
when  I  played  that  foolish  trick  with  my  regular 
troops.  But  think  of  the  Maharaja  up  yonder" — he 
pointed  up  to  the  firmament  outside — "who  night  after 
night  whistles  up  his  glittering  legions,  and  puts  them 
through  their  deadly  punctual  drill,  as  much  as  to  say, 
'See  what  a  devil  of  a  fellow  /  am !'  Do  you  think  it 
quite  in  good  taste,  Madam  ?" 

The  Punjabi  mem-sahib  was  only  veneered  on  the 
vicarage  girl;  Lucilla  was  shocked,  and  tried  not  to 
show  it,  playing  the  game,  and  with  a  forced,  thin  smile 
studied  her  shoe. 

But  Traherne  laughed  frankly.  "I'm  afraid  you're 
jealous,  Raja!  You  don't  like  having  to  play  second 
fiddle  to  a  still  more  absolute  ruler." 

"Perhaps  you're  right,  Doctor,"  the  Rajah  owned; 
"perhaps  it's  partly  that.  But  there's  something  more 
to  it.  I  can't  help  resenting — " 

He  interrupted  himself  to  urge  Crespin  to  "try"  the 
Kiimmel  a  servant  was  offering  him. 

Lucilla  bit  her  lip  to  keep  back  the,  "Don't,  Antony, 
please  don't,"  that  she  wanted  to  say. 

"What  is  it  you  resent?"  Traherne  asked. 


184  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"Oh,"  Rukh  said,  "the  respect  paid  to  mere  size — to 
the  immensity,  as  they  call  it,  of  the  universe.  Are 
we  to  worship  a  god  because  he's  big?" 

"If  you  resent  his  bigness,  what  do  you  say  to  his 
littleness?"  Traherne  objected.  "The  microscope,  you 
know,  reveals  him  no  less  than  the  telescope." 

"And  reveals  him,"  Rukh  added,  "in  the  form  of 
death-dealing  specks  of  matter,  which  you,  I  under 
stand,  Doctor,  are  impiously  proposing  to  exterminate." 

"I  am  trying,"  Traherne  amended,  "to  marshal  the 
life-saving  against  the  death-dealing  powers." 

"To  marshal  God's  right  hand  against  his  left,  eh? 
or  vice  versa,"  the  Raja  demanded.  "But  I  admit  you 
have  the  better  of  the  astronomers,  in  so  far  as  you 
deal  in  life,  not  in  dead  mechanism."  He  slapped  a 
palm  sharply  down  on  the  back  of  his  other  hand. 
"This  mosquito  that  I  have  just  killed — I  am  glad  to 
see  you  smoke,  Madam:  it  helps  to  keep  them  off — 
this  mosquito,  or  any  smallest  thing  that  has  life  in  it, 
is  to  me  far  more  admirable  than  a  whole  lifeless  uni 
verse.  What  do  you  say,  Major?" 

"I  say,  Raja,"  Crespin  replied  lazily,  and  keeping  his 
cigar  alight,  "that  if  you'll  tell  that  fellow  to  give  me 
another  glass  of  Kummel,  I'll  let  you  have  your  own 
way  about  the  universe/' 

He  got  his  Kummel. 

"But  what,"  Mrs.  Crespin  asked,  "if  the  mechanism, 
as  you  call  it,  isn't  dead  ?  What  if  the  stars  are  swarm 
ing  with  life?" 

"Yes — "  Traherne  agreed,  and  pushed  her  argument 
on,  "suppose  there  are  planets,  which  of  course  we  can't 
see,  circling  round  each  of  the  great  suns  we  do  see? 
And  suppose  they  are  all  inhabited  ?" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  185 

"I'd  rather  not  suppose  it,"  Rukh  asserted  quickly. 
"Isn't  one  inhabited  world  bad  enough?  Do  we  want 
it  multiplied  by  millions?" 

"But  haven't  you  just  been  telling  us  that  a  living 
gnat  is  more  wonderful  than  a  dead  universe?"  Lu- 
cilla  check-mated,  or  thought  that  she  had. 

But  the  Raja  slipped  through.  "Wonderful?"  he 
said.  "Yes,  by  all  means — wonderful  as  a  device  for 
torturing  and  being  tortured.  Oh,  I'm  neither  a  saint 
nor  an  ascetic — I  take  life  as  I  find  it — I  am  tortured 
and  I  torture.  But  there's  one  thing  I'm  really  proud 
of — I'm  proud  to  belong  to  the  race  of  the  Buddha, 
who  first  found  out  that  life  was  a  colossal  blunder. 
'His  word  was  our  arrow,  his  breath  was  our  sword,' ' 
he  quoted  softly. 

"Should  you  like  the  sky  to  be  starless?"  Lucilla 
Crespin  asked  him  in  a  low  voice.  (How  like  deep 
blue  stars  her  eyes  were!  both  he  and  Traherne 
thought.)  "That  seems  to  me — forgive  me,  Raja — 
the  last  word  of  impiety." 

"Possibly,  Madam,"  the  Raja  of  Rukh  said  with  a 
grave  laugh.  "How  my  esteemed  fellow-creatures  were 
ever  bluffed  into  piety  is  a  mystery  to  me.  Not,"  he 
added,  "that  I'm  complaining.  If  men  could  not  be 
bluffed  by  the  Raja  above,  how  much  less  would  they 
be  bluffed  by  us  rajas  below.  And  though  life  is  a 
contemptible  business,  I  don't  deny  that  power  is  the 
best  part  of  it." 

"In  short,"  Traherne  said,  "Your  Highness  is  a 
Superman." 

"Ah,  you  read  Nietzsche?  Yes,  if  I  weren't  of  the 
kindred  of  the  Buddha,  I  should  like  to  be  of  the  race 
of  that  great  man." 


186  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  last  servant  withdrew  noiselessly.  Till  now 
they  had  hovered  about  with  their  trays  of  refreshments 
and  tobacco. 

Lucilla  rose  and  moved  to  the  loggia  opening. 
"There  is  the  moon  rising  over  the  snowfields,"  she 
said.  "I  hope  you  wouldn't  banish  her  from  the 
heavens  ?" 

"Oh,  no — I  like  her  silly  face" — he  had  followed 
Mrs.  Crespin — "her  silly,  good-natured  face.  And 
she's  useful  to  lovers  and  brigands  and  other  lawless 
vagabonds,  with  whom  I  have  great  sympathy.  I  am 
an  Oriental,  you  know.  Besides,  I  don't  know  that 
she's  so  silly,  either.  She  seems  to  be  forever  raising 
her  eyebrows  in  mild  astonishment  at  human  folly." 

Crespin  stirred  impatiently,  and  said,  insistently,  if 
a  little  thickly,  "All  this  is  out  of  my  depth,  Your 
Highness.  We've  had  a  rather  fatiguing  day. 
Mightn't  we — " 

"To  be  sure,"  Rukh  replied  agreeably — too  agree 
ably,  Dr.  Traherne  thought — "I  only  waited  until  the 
servants  had  gone.  Now" — solicitously,  always  the 
perfect  host — "are  you  all  quite  comfortable?" 

"Quite,"  Lucilla  assured  him,  sitting  down  again. 

Rukh  turned  to  Traherne.  "Perfectly,  thank  you," 
the  doctor  said. 

The  Raja  glanced  to  the  Major,  and  Crespin  echoed, 
"Perfectly." 

The  Raja  lit  a  fresh  cigar  slowly,  then  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  fire.  "Then,"  he  said  leisurely,  "we'll 
go  into  committee  upon  your  position  here." 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  Crespin  said. 

"I'm  afraid,"  the  Raja  spoke  regretfully,  "you  may 
find  it  rather  disagreeable." 

"Communications  bad,  eh?"  Crespin  inquired  more 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  187 

briskly  than  he  altogether  felt.     "We  have  a  difficult 
journey  before  us?" 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  smoked  a  moment  thoughtfully 
before  he  replied  very,  very  slowly,  a  cryptic  cold  smile 
on  his  tawny  face,  "A  long  journey,  I  fear — yet  not 
precisely  difficult." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A  COLD  something  iced  in  the  room.  Out  in  the 
far  open  a  bird  of  prey  screamed  exultantly. 
Somewhere  in  the  palace  a  gong  was  struck,  three  bar 
baric,  ominous,  bellowing  notes. 

Rukh  gave  no  sign  that  he  listened,  but  he  listened. 
A  child  was  being  born. 

They  were  silent. 

No  one  spoke,  no  one  moved.  But  Rukh  smoked  on 
quietly. 

When  the  silence  had  lasted  so  long  that  all  their 
English  nerves  were  tortured,  and  cried  for  relief,  any 
relief,  Major  Crespin  broke  it,  trying  to  speak  nat 
urally,  and  failing. 

"It  surely,"  he  said,  "can't  be  so  very  far,  since  you 
had  heard  of  the  sentence  passed  on  those  assassins." 

The  Raja  smiled  slightly.  "I  am  glad,  Major,"  he 
said  smoothly,  "that  you  have  so  tactfully  spared  me 
the  pain  of  re-opening  that  subject.  We  should  have 
had  to  come  to  it  sooner  or  later." 

There  was  another  pause — an  embarrassed  pause. 
Rukh  waited  patient  and  imperturbable. 

"When  Your  Highness" — Traherne  spoke  slowly, 
he  was  picking  his  words  with  care — "said  they  were 
your  brothers,  you  were  of  course  speaking  figuratively. 
You  meant  your  tribesmen." 

"Not  at  all,"  the  Raja  replied;  "they  are  sons  of  my 
father — not  of  my  mother." 

Lucilla  Crespin  turned  to  him  quickly,  and  he  turned 
his  eyes  away  from  the  unmistakable  sympathy  in  hers. 

188 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  189 

"And  we,"  she  cried  impulsively,  "intrude  upon  you  at 
such  a  time !  How  dreadful !"  And  the  Raja  of  Rukh 
knew  that  the  woman  had  spoken  and  not  the  hostage. 

"Oh,  pray  don't  apologize,"  he  begged  formally, 
smothering  from  his  voice  the  inevitable  Oriental  grati 
tude  that  stirred  at  his  heart.  "Believe  me,  your  ar 
rival  has  given  great  satisfaction." 

"How  do  you  mean  ?"  Traherne  demanded  quickly. 
There  had  been  nothing  but  menace  and  hardness  in 
the  Rukh's  last  sentence. 

"I'll  explain  presently,"  the  Raja  promised.  "But 
first—" 

Crespin  interrupted  rashly,  blundering  in  the  ac 
credited  British  way.  "First,  let  us  understand  each 
other — "  and  his  tone  and  manner  were  crassly  manda 
tory.  "You  surely  can't  approve  of  this  abominable 
crime  ?"  he  demanded — more  as  if  Rukh  had  been  his 
prisoner  than  he  Rukh's. 

"My  brothers,"  the  Raja  said  with  an  enigmatic 
smile,  an  ominous  smoothness,  "are  fanatics,  and  there 
is  no  fanaticism  in  me." 

"How  do  they  come  to  be  so  different  from  you?" 
Lucilla  Crespin  asked  him,  again  speaking  impulsively 
— and  it  was  ill-advised. 

But  Rukh  showed  no  resentment.  Traherne  won 
dered  if  he  felt  none.  Perhaps — Oriental  susceptibili 
ties,  though  quicker  and  sharper,  differ  widely  from 
ours. 

"That  is  just  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  Rukh 
answered.  "I  was  my  father's  eldest  son,  by  his  fa 
vorite  wife.  Through  my  mother's  influence  (my  poor 
mother — how  I  loved  her!)" — Lucilla  knew  he  said  it 
sincerely;  Traherne  wondered  if  he  did;  and  that  he 
might  never  occurred  to  Crespin,  who  wished  for  the 


190  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

love  of  Mike  the  fellow'd  cut  the  cackle  and  get  to 
the  horses — their  horses! — "at  her  wish  I  was  sent  to 
Europe.  If  only  our  women  knew  what  that  does  to 
us!  My  education  was  wholly  European.  I  shed  all 
my  prejudices.  I  became  the  open-minded  citizen  of 
the  world  whom  I  hope  you  recognize  in  me — "  That 
was  part  sarcasm,  part  vanity,  part  a  child's  truckling 
for  applause.  The  true  Oriental  is  always  a  child. 
However  old  he  lives,  he  whom  the  gods  of  the  East 
love  die  young.  "My  brothers,"  he  continued,  "on  the 
other  hand,  turned  to  India  for  their  culture.  The  re 
ligion  of  our  people  has  always  been  a  primitive  idol 
atry.  My  brothers  naturally  fell  in  with  adherents  of 
the  same  superstition  and  they  worked  each  other  up 
to  a  high  pitch  of  frenzy  against  the  European  ex 
ploitation  of  Asia." 

Traherne  nodded ;  he  was  not  altogether  out  of  sym 
pathy  with  that.  But  he  said,  "Had  you  no  restraining 
influence  upon  them?" 

The  Raja  smiled — it  was  not  a  sunny  smile.  "Of 
course  I  might  have  imprisoned  them — or  had  them 
strangled — the  traditional  form  of  argument  in  our 
family.  But  why  should  I?  As  I  said,  I  have  no 
prejudices — least  of  all  in  favor  of  the  British.  My 
family  is  of  Indian  blood,  though  long  severed  from 
the  Motherland — and  I  do  not  love  her  tyrants." 

Again  out  in  the  open  the  bird  screamed  its  horrid 
gluttonous  cry. 

"In  short,  sir,"  Crespin  broke  in — wine-fumes  and 
fear  both  fuddling  his  mind,  "you  defend  their  devilish 
murder?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Rukh  answered  softly;  "I  think  it  foolish 
and  futile.  But  there  is  a  romantic  as  well  as  a  prac- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  191 

tical  side  to  my  nature,  and,  from  the  romantic  point 
of  view,  I  rather  admire  it." 

"Then,  sir,"  Crespin  blustered,  rising,  "the  less  we 
intrude  on  your  hospitality  the  better.  If  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  furnish  us  with  transport  to-morrow 
morning — " 

"That,"  the  Raja  interrupted  him  suavely,  "is  just 
where  the  difficulty  arises." 

"No  transport,  hey?"  Crespin's  tone  was  bullying 
now.  Oh,  those  English !  Those  English  abroad ! 

"Materially  it  might  be  managed,"  the  Raja  said 
with  an  amiable  shrug;  "but  morally  I  fear  it  is — 
excuse  the  colloquialism,  Madam — no  go." 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean,  sir?" 

Still  Rukh  showed  no  resentment.  And  Lucilla, 
trying  to  cover  a  little  her  husband's  blunder,  asked 
gently,  "Will  Your  Highness  be  good  enough  to  ex 
plain?" 

"I  mentioned,"  the  Raja  asked,  turning  to  her  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  "that  the  religion  of  my  people  is  a 
primitive  superstition?  Well,  since  the  news  has 
spread  that  three  Feringhis  have  dropped  from  the 
skies  precisely  at  the  time  when  three  princes  of  the 
royal  house  are  threatened  with  death  at  the  hands 
of  the  Feringhi  government — and  dropped  moreover 
in  the  precincts  of  a  temple — my  subjects  have  got  it 
into  their  heads  that  you  have  been  personally  con 
ducted  hither  by  the  Goddess  whom  they  especically 
worship." 

"The  Goddess—?"  Lucilla  asked. 

"Here" — the  Raja  turned  and  pointed  to  the  statu 
ette — "is  her  portrait  on  the  mantelpiece — much  ad 
mired  by  connoisseurs." 


192  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Lucilla  looked,  and  shuddered,  although  she  tried 
not  to. 

"I  need  not  say,"  the  Raja  began,  but  broke  off  to 
count  the  gong-beats  that  came  again,  then  went  on 
with  a  slight  good-humored  shrug  of  contempt  (it  was 
only  a  girl)  "need  not  say  I  am  far  from  sharing  the 
popular  illusion.  Your  arrival  is  of  course  the  merest 
coincidence — for  me,  a  charming  coincidence.  But 
my  people  hold  unphilosophical  views.  I  understand — 
and  indeed  I  observed — that  even  in  England  the  vulgar 
are  apt  to  see  the  Finger  of  Providence  in  particularly 
fortunate — or  unfortunate — occurrences." 

"Then,"  Crespin  muttered  impatiently,  "the  upshot 
of  all  this  palaver  is  that  you  propose  to  hold  us  as 
hostages,  to  exchange  for  your  brothers?" 

"That  is  not  precisely  the  idea,  my  dear  sir."  The 
Raja  spoke  with  great  courtesy — almost  exaggerated. 
"My  theologians  do  not  hold  that  an  exchange  is  what 
the  Goddess  decrees.  Nor,  to  be  quite  frank,  would 
it  altogether  suit  my  book." 

"Not  to  get  your  brothers  back  again?"  Lucilla  ex 
claimed  incredulously. 

"You  may  have  noted  in  history,  Madam,"  he  re 
plied  with  a  smile,  "that  family  affection  is  seldom 
the  strong  point  of  princes.  Is  it  not  Pope  who  re 
marks  on  their  lack  of  enthusiasm  for  a  'brother  near 
the  throne'  ?  My  sons  are  mere  children,  and,  were  I 
to  die — we  are  all  mortal — there  might  be  trouble  about 
the  succession.  In  our  family  uncles  seldom  love 
nephews." 

"So  you  would  raise  no  finger  to  save  your 
brothers?"  the  Englishwoman  asked  him  in  horror. 

"That  is  not  my  only  reason,"  Rukh  said  with  a 
smile.  "Supposing  it  possible  that  I  could  bully  the 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  193 

Government  of  India  into  giving  up  my  relatives,  do 
you  think  it  would  sit  calmly  down  under  the  humilia 
tion?  No,  no,  dear  lady.  It  might  wait  a  few  years 
to  find  some  decent  pretext,  but  assuredly  we  should 
have  a  punitive  expedition.  It  would  cost  thousands  of 
lives  and  millions  of  money,  but  what  would  that  mat 
ter  ?  Prestige  would  be  restored,  and  I  should  end  my 
days  in  a  maisonette  at  Monte  Carlo.  It  wouldn't  suit 
me  at  all.  Hitherto  I  have  escaped  the  notice  of  your 
Government  by  a  policy  of  masterly  inactivity,  and  I 
propose  to  adhere  to  that  policy." 

"Then,"  Crespin  broke  in,  "I  don't  see  how — " 

And  Traherne,  speaking  at  the  same  time,  said, 
"Surely  you  don't  mean — " 

"We  are  approaching  the  crux  of  the  matter,"  Rukh 
returned,  "a  point  you  may  have  some  difficulty  in  ap 
preciating.  I  would  beg  you  to  remember  that  though 
I  am  what  is  commonly  called  an  autocrat,  there  is  no 
such  thing  under  the  sun  as  real  despotism.  All  gov 
ernment  is  government  by  consent  of  the  people.  It  is 
very  stupid  of  them  to  consent — but  they  do.  I  have 
studied  the  question — took  a  pretty  good  degree  at 
Cambridge,  in  Moral  and  Political  Science — and  I  as 
sure  you  that,  though  I  have  absolute  power  of  life  and 
death  over  my  subjects,  it  is  only  their  acquiescence 
that  gives  me  that  power.  If  I  defied  their  prejudices 
or  their  passions,  they  could  upset  my  throne  to-mor 
row." 

Anthony  Crespin  was  losing  his  head  and  his  tem 
per.  "Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  come  to  the  point, 
sir?"  he  stormed. 

"Gently,  Major!"  Rukh  said  soothingly.  "We  shall 
reach  it  soon  enough."  He  turned  to  Lucilla.  "Please 
remember,  too,  Madam,  that  autocracy  is  generally  a 


194  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

theocracy  to  boot,  and  mine  is  a  case  in  point.  I  am 
a  slave  to  theology.  The  clerical  party  can  do  what  it 
pleases  with  me,  for  there  is  no  other  party  to  oppose 
it.  True  I  am  my  own  Archbishop  of  Canterbury — 
'but  I  have  a  partner :  Mr.  Jorkins' — I  have  a  terribly 
exacting  Archbishop  of  York.  I  fear  I  may  have  to 
introduce  you  to  him  to-morrow." 

Lucilla  Crespin  lifted  a  drawn  face,  but  she  looked 
him  straight  in  the  eyes — and  there  were  both  defiance 
and  entreaty  in  hers.  "You  are  torturing  us,  Your 
Highness,"  she  told  him  simply.  "Like  my  husband, 
I  beg  you  to  come  to  the  point." 

"The  point  is,  dear  lady,"  the  Raja  answered  her 
sadly,  "that  the  theology  on  which,  as  I  say,  my  whole 
power  is  founded,  has  not  yet  emerged  from  the  Mosaic 
stage  of  development:  It  demands  an  eye  for  an  eye, 
a  tooth  for  a  tooth — " 

There  was  a  pause. 

"—a  life  for  a  life." 

There  was  a  pause — longer,  tenser,  a  terrible  hope 
less  pause.  Crespin  sagged  in  his  chair,  his  miserable 
eyes  fixed  on  his  wife's  face,  seeing  nothing,  thinking 
of  nothing  but  her.  She  sat  where  she  was,  statue- 
like  in  her  motionless  horror.  Traherne  never  low 
ered  his  look  from  Rukh's  expressionless  face. 

Again  the  wild  bird  cried,  nearer  now;  they  could 
hear  the  beat  of  its  great  angry  wings. 

Dr.  Traherne  spoke  first.     "You  mean  to  say — " 

"Unfortunately  I  do,"  the  Raja  replied. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  great  wings  beat  nearer.  The  cruel  bird-cry 
came  again. 

"You  would  kill  us — ?"  Lucilla  panted  hoarsely. 

"Not  I,  Madam;  the  clerical  party,"  Rukh  said 
suavely.  "And  only  if  my  brothers  are  executed.  If 
not,  I  will  merely  demand  your  word  of  honor  that 
what  has  passed  between  us  shall  never  be  mentioned 
to  any  human  soul — and  you  shall  go  free." 

"But,"  Major  Crespin  exclaimed,  "if  your  brother 
assassins  are  hanged — as  assuredly  they  will  be — you 
will  put  us  to  death  in  cold  blood !" 

"Oh,  not  in  cold  blood,  Major,"  the  Raja  inter 
jected,  the  edge  of  a  laugh  on  his  smooth,  level  voice. 
"There  is  nothing  cold-blooded  about  the  clerical  party 
when  'white  goats,'  as  their  phrase  goes,  a,re  to  be 
sacrificed  to  the  Goddess." 

"Does  your  Goddess  demand  the  life  of  a  woman?" 
Traherne  asked  it  sternly,  and  his  eyes  were  scalpels. 

"Well,"  the  Raja  of  Rukh  said  with  slow  signifi 
cance,  "on  that  point  she  might  not  be  too  exacting. 
'On  trouve  avec  le  del  des  ac  comma  dements.'  If 
Madam  would  be  so  gracious  as  to  favor  me  with  her 
— society — " 

Lucilla  Crespin  gazed  at  him  speechless,  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  realized  fully  his  meaning,  and  sprang  up 
with  a  cry  of  rage  and  anger. 

The  Raja  smiled. 

"Scoundrel!"    Traherne  hurled  the  word  at  him. 

The  Raja  smiled. 

Crespin  sprang  to  the  side  of  his  wife,  threw  one 

195 


196  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

hand  on  her  quivering  shoulders,  drew  and  leveled  his 
revolver.  "Another  word,  and  I  shoot  you  like  a 
dog,"  he  hissed.  Antony  Crespin  was  sober  now. 

The  Raja  laughed. 

"Oh,  no,  Major — that  wouldn't  help  a  bit,"  he  said 
genially — almost,  too,  as  if  he  deprecated  the  fact. 
"You  would  only  be  torn  to  pieces  instead  of  being 
beheaded.  Besides,  I  have  had  your  teeth  drawn. 
That  precaution  was  taken  while  you  were  at  your 
bath." 

Crespin  took  his  hand  from  Lucilla's  shoulder,  and 
examined  his  revolver  carefully  and  flung  it  down  with 
an  oath. 

Again  the  gong  sounded.  It  bleated  through  the 
night  mournfully.  A  girl  had  died  in  child-bed.  Rukh 
counted  the  strokes.  "That's  a  pity,"  he  said  as  the 
last  faded  away,  and  he  lit  a  fresh  cigarette. 

The  Englishwoman  turned  to  her  men.  "Promise 
me,"  she  said  almost  fiercely,  "promise  you  won't  leave 
me  alone!  If  we  must  die,  let  me  die  first — "  and  her 
voice  broke  on  the  words. 

They  nodded.    Neither  could  speak. 

But  the  Raja  spoke.  "The  order  of  the  ceremony, 
Madam,"  he  said  with  courteous,  princely  insolence, 
"will  not  be  at  these  gentlemen's  choice."  She  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands,  and  stood  cowering  in  distraught 
despair.  "But  do  not  be  alarmed.  No  constraint  shall 
be  put  upon  your  inclinations.  Dr.  Traherne  re 
proached  me  with  lack  of  consideration  for  your  sex, 
and  I  then  hinted,  if  you  so  pleased,  your  sex  should 
meet  with  every  consideration.  I  gather  that  you  do 
not  so  please?  Well,  I  scarcely  hoped  you  would — I 
do  not  press  the  point.  None  the  less,  the  suggestion 
remains  open.  And  now,  I'm  afraid  I've  been  talking 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  197 

a  great  deal.  You  must  be  fatigued,"  he  added  solici 
tously. 

At  that  moment  the  major-domo  stood  at  a  door, 
holding  a  salver  with  a  slip  of  paper  folded  on  it.  The 
Raja  gestured  him  nearer,  advanced  to  meet  him,  and 
took  up  the  paper,  and  scanned  it  thoughtfully.  But 
his  face  did  not  change. 

"Ah.  this  is  interesting!"  he  told  them.  "If  you  will 
wait  a  few  minutes,  I  may  have  some  news  for  you. 
Excuse  me."  He  bowed  as  he  left  them,  and  the  old 
major-domo  followed  him  from  the  room. 

The  clocks  ticked  almost  a  minute  away. 

They  stayed  as  if  frozen,  where  he  had  left  them, 
and  gazed  at  each  other  in  speechless  horror.  The 
men  thought  that  they  heard  the  woman's  heart  beat. 

"And  we  were  saved  this  morning — only  for  this!" 
Lucilla  sobbed  brokenly  at  last. 

"Courage!"  Traherne  said,  with  his  soul  ir*  his 
eyes,  his  heart  in  his  voice.  "There  must  be  some  way 
out." 

"The  whole  thing's  a  damned  piece  of  bluff !"  Cres- 
pin  cried  with  a  gust  of  hysterical  laughter.  "And  the 
scoundrel  almost  took  me  in." 

Bluff!  They  looked  at  him  in  pitying  amazement. 
They  both  pitied  him  then.  And  they  knew  it  was  no 
bluff. 

Lucilla  caught  suddenly  at  her  throat,  catching  her 
locket  convulsively  in  her  icy  fingers.  "Oh,"  she 
sobbed,  stumbling  down  on  to  the  big  ottoman  in  a 
passion  of  grief,  "my  babies!  Oh,  my  babies!  Never 
to  see  them  again!"  Crespin's  face  twisted.  "To 
leave  them  all  alone  in  the  world!  My  Ronny!  My 
little  Iris!  What  can  we  do?  Antony!  Dr.  Tra 
herne!  Think  of  something — something — " 


198  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Crespin  sat  down  beside  her,  and  took  her  hands  in 
his.  And  she  did  not  repulse  him  now.  He  was  their 
father.  She  forgot  his  cups,  that  had  shamed  her, 
forgot  the  infidelities  that  had  stung  and  infuriated  her 
womanhood  and  pride.  In  this  unspeakable  peril  he 
was  her  husband  again.  And  she  turned  to  him  with 
an  agony  of  entreaty  in  her  terrified  eyes. 

"Yes,  yes,  Lu,"  he  said  tenderly,  "we'll  think  of 
something — " 

"There's  that  fellow  Watkins,"  Traherne  suggested 
desperately;  "we  might  bribe  him — " 

"Oh,"  Lucilla  gasped,  "offer  him  every  penny  we 
have  in  the  world!" 

"I'm  afraid  he's  a  malicious  scoundrel,"  Traherne 
reflected  aloud,  dismally.  "He  must  have  known  what 
was  hanging  over  our  heads,  and,  looking  back,  I  seem 
to  see  him  gloating  over  it." 

"But,  he  is  English,"  Lucilla  said  fiercely. 

"Yes,"  Traherne  said  dully,  "he  is  English." 

"And  a  damneder  cur  than  the  'master'  whose 
feet  he  washes,  if  you  ask  me,"  Crespin  muttered 
gloomily. 

"Still — still — "  his  wife  persisted,  "perhaps  he  can 
be  bought.  Antony !  Think  of  the  children !  Oh,  do 
let  us  try !" 

"But  even  if  he  would,"  Crespin  told  her  gently, 
"he  couldn't  guide  us  through  the  woods." 

"Oh,"  she  answered  passionately,  "he  could  hire 
some  one  else !" 

"I  don't  believe,"  Traherne  said  thoughtfully,  "we 
can  possibly  be  so  far  from  the  frontier  as  he  makes 
out." 

"How  far  did  he  say?"  Lucilla  exclaimed  eagerly. 

"Three     weeks'     journey,"     Traherne     told     her. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  199 

"Yet  they  know  all  about  things  that  happened  less 
than  a  week  ago." 

Crespin  bent  down,  and  picked  up  thoughtfully  the 
revolver  he'd  thrown  down  in  his  rage.  At  least  it 
would  serve  to  brain  one  native,  he  reflected. 

As  he  slipped  it  back  in  his  belt,  all  the  electric  lights 
in  the  room  went  down  suddenly,  and  as  they  did,  a 
hissing  and  chittering  sound  buzzed  faintly  out  unmis 
takably  somewhere  beyond  the  room. 

"What  is  that  ?"  Lucilla  whispered,  startled.  "What 
an  odd  sound !" 

"God!"  Antony  Crespin  muttered  hoarsely — a 
strange,  eager  look  on  his  face. 

"Major !    Do  you  hear  that !"  Traherne  cried. 

"Do  I  hear  it?"  Crespin  echoed  exultantly.  "I 
should  say  so!"  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  listening, 
his  head  thrown  back,  his  eyes  glowing,  and  fixed  on 
the  ceiling. 

"Wireless!"  Traherne  exclaimed. 

"Wireless,  by  Jupiter!"  Crespin  swayed  in  his  in 
tense  excitement — his  voice  danced. 

"They're  sending  out  a  message!" 

"That  accounts  for  it,"  Traherne  said. 

"They're  in  wireless  communication  with  India!" 

"Fools,  not  to  have  thought  of  it,"  Crespin  mut 
tered.  "He  would  be!" 

"Antony  knows  all  about  wireless,"  Lucilla  panted, 
speaking  to  Traherne. 

"Ought  to!"  the  Major  said  grimly.  "I  should 
rather  think  so !  Wasn't  it  my  job  all  through  the  War ! 
If  I  could  hear  more  distinctly  now — and  if  they're 
transmitting  it  clearly — I  could  read  their  message." 

"That  may  be  our  salvation!"  Traherne  said  in  a 
low,  strained  voice. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THEY  drew  closer  together — one,  not  three  in  their 
sudden  hope,  which  tingled  through  the  very 
room  vibrantly  as  the  telegraphist's  speaking  wire's 
words  tingle  through  the  air  or  ocean  they  charge. 

"If  we  could  get  control  of  the  wireless  for  five 
minutes,"  Crespin  muttered,  "and  call  up  the  aero 
drome  at  Amil-Serai — " 

"What  then?"  Lucilla  whispered  wildly. 

"Why,  we'd  soon  bring  the  Raja  to  his  senses/' 
Crespin  told  her. 

"If — "  Dr.  Traherne  said  under  his  breath. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  the  installation  is?"  Mrs. 
Crespin  asked  her  husband. 

"Somewhere  overhead,  I  should  say,"  Crespin  re 
plied.  And  they  hung  on  his  simple  words.  The  spe 
cialist  had  come  into  his  own.  The  wife  who  had  dis 
carded  and  judged  him,  the  friend  who  had  despised 
and  pitied,  looked  at  him  with  quick  respect.  He  was 
in  command  now.  Their  peril  and  his  special  equip 
ment  made  them  look  up  to  him.  It  is  human  nature 
to  hold  as  a  god  every  possible  friend  in  dire  need. 
Any  port  in  such  storm ! 

"We  must  go  very  cautiously,  Major,"  Traherne  re 
minded  him,  with  a  note  of  deference  in  his  voice. 
"We  must  on  no  account  let  the  Raja  suspect  that  we 
know  anything  about  wireless  telegraphy,  else  he'd 
take  care  we  should  never  get  near  the  installation." 

"Right  you  are,  Traherne,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 
"I'll  lie  very  low." 

Suddenly  noticing  it,  and  remembering,  Mrs.  Cres- 

200 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  201 

pin  flung  the  costly  Eastern  shawl  from  her.  "And 
how,"  she  demanded,  "are  we  to  behave  to  this  hor 
rible  man?" 

"We  must  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  play  the  game," 
Crespin  insisted. 

"You  mean  pretend  to  take  part  in  his  ghastly  com 
edy  of  hospitality  and  politeness?"  his  wife  protested. 

"If  you  can,"  Traherne  urged  quickly,  "it  would  be 
wisest.  We  must  play  the  game  indeed,  and  not  lose 
a  trick  we  can  possibly  help.  His  delight  in  showing 
off  his  European  polish  is  all  in  our  favor.  But  for 
that  he  might  separate  us  and  lock  us  up.  We  must 
avoid  that  at  all  costs." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes — "  Her  eyes  widened  with  horror  at 
the  suggestion,  and  her  words  were  almost  a  sob. 

"You've  always  had  plenty  of  pluck,  Lu,"  Crespin 
said  proudly,  but  the  hand  he  laid  again  on  her  shoul 
der  trembled  in  spite  of  him.  But  his  grave  voice  was 
steady.  "Now's  the  time  to  show  it." 

She  met  his  eyes  more  kindly  than  she  often  had  of 
late,  and  nodded  firmly.  "You  can  trust  me,"  she  told 
him.  She  drew  the  shawl  carefully  over  her  shoulders 
again,  a  cold  smile  on  her  mouth,  and  her  hands  did 
not  tremble.  "The  thought  of  the  children  knocked 
me  over  at  first,  but  I'm  not  afraid  to  die,"  she  added 
simply.  It  was  perfectly  true.  She  came  of  stock 
that  never  had  been  afraid  to  die.  And,  a  little  narrow 
in  some  ways,  but  good  and  sound  in  all,  such  women 
as  this  have  no  need  to  be  afraid  to  die.  "Hush !"  she 
whispered  suddenly,  "the  noise  has  stopped."  And  the 
chittering  sound  had  ceased  as  abruptly  as  it  had  be 
gun,  and  the  lights  had  gone  up  as  suddenly. 

"Yes,"  Crespin  said,  "they've  left  off  transmitting, 
and  ceased  to  draw  on  the  electric  current." 


202  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"He'll  be  back  presently,  then,"  Traherne  warned, 
flinging  himself  in  an  easy  chair.  "Don't  let  us  seem 
to  be  consulting." 

Lucilla  leaned  back  luxuriously  on  the  ottoman  cush 
ions,  and  readjusted  a  fold  of  the  shawl — a  lazy  smile 
on  her  pallid  face.  Perhaps  she  felt  its  pallor,  for  she 
crushed  and  pinched  it  quickly  with  strong  determined 
fingers.  Crespin  watched  her  proudly,  as  he  selected 
and  lit  a  cigar,  and  took  the  place  where  the  Raja  had 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire.  It  was  devilish  bad  to 
be  in  the  hellish  fix  they  were  in,  but  it  was  good  to 
have  such  a  wife — staunch  and  sporting  all  through. 
Then  his  face  darkened  with  a  new  dismay.  "Curse 
it!"  he  groaned,  "I  can't  remember  the  wave-length 
and  the  call  for  Amil-Serai.  I  was  constantly  using  it 
at  one  time." 

"It'll  come  back  to  you,"  Traherne  assured  him  en 
couragingly. 

"I  pray  to  the  Lord  it  may!"  Major  Crespin  mut 
tered,  as  Rukh  came  back  into  the  room. 

"I  promised  you  news,"  he  said,  more  briskly  than 
he  often  spoke,  "and  it  has  come."  His  quickened 
voice  was  perfectly  calm,  but  his  eyes  were  glittering 
with  something  their  drooping  lids  could  not  hide. 

"What  news?"  Major  Crespin  inquired  casually. 

"My  brothers'  execution  is  fixed  for  the  day  after 
to-morrrow,"  Rukh  replied  slowly. 

The  Englishmen  showed  nothing,  but  their  nerves 
twanged.  And  Mrs.  Crespin  half  rose,  then  sank  back 
a  little  limply,  as  she  exclaimed  nervously,  "Then  the 
day  after  to-morrow — ?" 

"Yes,"  the  Raja  answered  her  gravely,  "at  sunset." 

For  a  perceptible,  painful  pause  no  one  spoke.  Lu 
cilla  Crespin  sagged  a  little  where  she  sat,  the  palm- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  203 

leaf  pattern  on  the  shawl  about  her  quivered  a  little. 
The  men  did  not  move,  still  gave  no  sign. 

"But,  meanwhile,"  Rukh  continued,  "I  hope  you  will 
regard  my  poor  house  as  your  own.  This  is  Liberty 
Hall.  My  tennis  courts,  my  billiard-room,  my  library 
are  all  at  your  disposal."  It  was  less  cruelly  meant 
than  that  he  could  not,  even  in  the  shadow  of  the  im 
pending  doom  he'd  just  pronounced,  refrain  from 
boasting.  "I  should  not  advise  you,"  he  went  on,  "to 
pass  the  palace  gates.  It  would  not  be  safe,  for  popu 
lar  feeling,  I  must  warn  you,  runs  very  high.  Besides, 
where  could  you  go?  There  are  three  hundred  miles 
of  almost  impassable  country  between  you  and  the  near 
est  British  post." 

"In  that  case,  Raja,"  Traherne  asked  perplexedly, 
"how  do  you  communicate  with  India  ?  How  has  this 
news  reached  you?"  His  perplexity  was  admirably 
done. 

"Does  that  puzzle  you?"  Rukh  asked  indulgently. 

"Naturally,"  the  English  physician  admitted. 

"You  don't  guess?"  the  Raja  persisted. 

"We  have  been  trying  to,"  Traherne  said  frankly. 
"The  only  thing — "  he  hesitated,  almost  as  if  apolo 
gizing  for  so  far-fetched  a  suggestion,  "we  could  think 
of  was  that  you  must  be  in  wireless  communica 
tion  ?" 

Was  that  wise  ?  Crespin  wondered ;  and  Lucilla  was 
appalled.  But  Dr.  Traherne  had  weighed  his  words 
well — and  if  he  had  spent  fewer  years  in  Asia  than  the 
English  soldier  had,  he  was  the  deeper  versed,  the 
better  skilled  in  human  psychology. 

"You  observed  nothing  to  confirm  the  idea?"  Rukh 
insinuated,  watching  Traherne  narrowly,  watching 
them  all. 


204  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Dr.  Traherne  shook  his  head  densely.  "Why  no," 
he  affirmed. 

"Did  you  not  notice  that  the  lights  suddenly  went 
down?" 

"Yes,"  Traherne  owned  promptly,  but  still  clearly 
at  sea,  "and  at  the  same  time  we  heard  a  peculiar  hiss 
ing  sound." 

"None  of  you  knew  what  it  meant?" 

"No."  The  doctor  made  the  admission  as  if  half- 
ashamed  of  it.  No  mere  Englishman — as  Rukh  per 
fectly  knew — cares  to  be  found  lacking  in  omniscience 
itself,  let  alone  average  intelligence  (one  reason  per 
haps  of  the  old  dislike  that  the  English  once  bore  the 
quicker  French). 

"Then  you  have  no  knowledge  of  wireless  teleg 
raphy?" 

"None,"  Traherne  replied  disgustedly.  And  that 
well  done  self -disgust  entirely  convinced  the  Raja  of 
Rukh — and  he  boasted  again. 

"I  may  tell  you,  then,"  he  said  with  a  sort  of  suave, 
princely  truculence,  "that  that  hissing  is  the  sound  of 
the  wireless  transmission.  I  am  in  communication 
with  India." 

"You  have  a  wireless  expert  here  then?"  Crespin 
asked  incredulously — taking  up  Traherne' s  cue  at  last. 

"Watkins" — the  Raja  laughed — "that  invaluable  fel 
low — he  is  my  operator." 

"And  with  whom  do  you  communicate?"  Traherne 
asked,  as  if  he,  for  his  part,  did  not  believe  a  word  of 
the  fairy  tale. 

"Do  you  think  that  quite  a  fair  question,  Doctor?" 
Rukh  retorted  with  a  smile.  "Does  it  show  your  usual 
tact?  I  have  my  agents — I  can  say  no  more." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  205 

No  one  made  any  comment,  or  seemed  inclined  to 
keep  the  ball,  or  any  ball,  rolling. 

The  Raja  waited  a  courteous  moment  or  two,  and 
then  turned  to  Mrs.  Crespin,  and  asked  her,  "Shall  I 
ring  for  the  ayah,  Madam,  to  see  you  to  your  room?" 

"If  you  please,"  she  told  him.  She  longed  to  stay 
or  to  go  with  her  husband  and  their  countryman — to 
be  with  them  through  the  hideous  strain  of  the  night ; 
but  she  thought  it  wiser  not  to  make  the  request.  Dr. 
Traherne  would  make  it,  if  he  deemed  it  advisable  or 
worth  while  to  venture  it.  But  neither  Traherne  nor 
her  husband  spoke,  and  she  rose  almost  immediately, 
as  if  to  go.  But  as  Rukh's  finger  was  on  the  bell,  she 
went  to  him  quickly,  staying  his  hand  with  a  gesture 
of  hers.  "No,"  she  begged  him,  "wait  a  moment. 
Raja,  I  have  two  children.  If  it  weren't  for  them, 
don't  imagine  that  any  of  us  would  beg  a  favor  at 
your  hands."  It  was  bravely  said,  and  Antony  Crespin 
had  never  admired  her  more,  but  Basil  Traherne  bit 
his  lip.  It  was  ill-advised  of  her,  no  doubt  of  that. 
But  if  English  men  proverbially  blunder  and  aggravate 
their  own  dilemma  when  they  stand  with  their  backs 
to  a  wall  and  fight  against  overwhelming  odds,  an  Eng 
lish  woman  may  be  forgiven  for  doing  it  now  and 
then.  And  Lucilla  Crespin's  English  blood  was  up. 

The  Raja  bowed  courteously,  and  he  smiled  slightly. 

"But,"  her  voice  broke,  she  was  pleading  now,  "for 
their  sakes  won't  you  instruct  your  agent  to  com 
municate  with  Simla  and  try  to  bring  about  an  ex 
change — your  brothers'  lives  for  ours  ?" 

"I  am  sorry,  Madam," — he  spoke  regretfully — and, 
in  spite  of  himself  Basil  Traherne  believed  that  he  was 
— and  perhaps  he  was — "but  I  have  already  told  you 


206  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

why  that  is  impossible.  Even  if  your  Government 
agreed,  it  would  assuredly  take  revenge  on  me  for  hav 
ing  extorted  such  a  concession.  No  whisper  of  your 
presence  here  must  ever  reach  India,  or — again  forgive 
the  vulgarity — my  goose  is  cooked." 

"The  thought  of  my  children  does  not  move  you?" 
she  asked  in  a  low,  tearless  voice. 

"My  brothers  have  children — does  the  thought  of 
them  move  the  Government  of  India?"  Rukh  answered 
gravely.  "No,  Madam,  I  am  desolated  to  have  to  re 
fuse  you,  but  you  must  not  ask  for  the  impossible." 

His  Oriental  iieart  was  adamant,  but  in  it  the  Asian 
autocrat  was  sorry  for  the  Englishwoman,  standing 
before  him  there,  her  white  hands  knotted  together, 
grief,  torture,  supplication,  and  a  personal  and  racial 
pride  scarcely  less  than  his  own  in  her  eyes.  She  would 
not  have  believed  it  of  him.  Antony  Crespin  could 
not  have  believed  it  of  him.  But  Dr.  Traherne  saw  it, 
and  believed  it.  And  while  he  resented  it  he  tried  to 
weigh  and  assay  it,  wondering  how  it  might  be  used  in 
their  defense — or,  at  best,  in  hers.  But  what  defense 
could  there  be  for  her  that  did  not  include  theirs  too : 
Crespin's  and  his — here  alone  in  the  Kingdom  of  Rukh? 

The  Raja  pressed  the  bell. 

"Does  it  not  strike  you,"  Mrs.  Crespin  demanded 
fiercely,  "that,  if  you  drive  us  to  desperation,  we  may 
find  means  of  cheating  your  Goddess?  What  is  to 
prevent  me,  for  instance,  from  throwing  myself  from 
that  loggia?"  She  flung  her  arm  towards  it  as  she 
spoke,  and  the  shawl  fell  away  from  her  shoulder,  and 
lay  between  them  on  the  floor,  a  huddled  heap  of  splen 
did  colors.  The  Raja  let  it  lie. 

"Nothing,  dear  lady,"  he  answered  quietly,  "except 
that  clinging  to  the  known,  and  shrinking  from  the  un- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  207 

known,  that  all  of  us  feel,  even  while  we  despise  it. 
Besides,  it  would  be  foolishly  precipitate,  in  every  sense 
of  the  word.  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope.  You 
can't  read  my  mind.  For  aught  you  can  tell,  I  may 
have  no  intention  of  proceeding  to  extremities,  and  may 
only  be  playing  a  little  joke  upon  you.  I  hope  you 
have  observed  that  I  have  a  sense  of  humor.  Ah" — 
as  the  native  woman  came  in — "here  is  the  ayah.  Good 
night,  Madam;  sleep  well."  He  bowed. 

Lucilla  thought  he  was  going  to  give  her  his  arm 
again,  and  the  thought  choked  her — it  shook  her  limbs. 
And  Traherne  feared  it  too.  But  the  Raja  walked 
gravely  beside  her  to  the  door,  without  speaking  again, 
without  offering  his  hand  when  she'd  reached  it,  bowed 
ceremoniously,  and  when  the  ayah  had  followed  her 
into  the  corridor,  closed  softly  behind  the  two  women 
the  door  he  had  opened. 

Lucilla  looked  him  in  the  eye  slowly  and  squarely 
before  she  went,  turned  and  threw  a  swift,  brave  smile 
to  the  two  Englishmen  who  still  stood  waiting  im 
potent  in  the  salon.  Crespin  smiled  back  at  her;  but 
Basil  Traherne  could  not. 

The  Raja  turned  back  to  them  from  the  door.  "Gen 
tlemen,"  he  offered,  "a  whiskey  and  soda?"  Major 
Crespin  gestured  his  refusal,  Traherne  stared  his 
blankly.  "No?"  He  pressed  another  bell.  "Then 
good-night,  good-night,"  he  said  as  two  servants  almost 
instantly  came  into  the  room. 

Traherne  and  Crespin  without  a  word  or  a  look, 
turned  on  their  heels  and  went  side  by  side  through 
the  opened  door,  the  native  servants  beside  them. 

Neither  spoke,  until  at  a  turning  the  Raja's  servitors 
indicated  that  the  Englishmen  separated  there. 

"Well,  cheerio!"  Crespin  said. 


208  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"Cheerio !"  Traherne  replied. 

They  were  English. 

As  their  footsteps  died  in  the  stretch  of  the  great 
corridor,  Rukh  went  to  the  loggia  opening,  stood  there 
a  moment  musing  out  into  the  snow-and-moonlit  night, 
and  came  back  to  near  the  dark,  almost  dead  fire.  He 
took  up  a  large  electric  torch  from  one  of  the  tables, 
and  switched  on  its  powerful  light,  and  when  he  had, 
switched  off  the  lights  of  the  room.  The  great  salon 
was  in  total  darkness  now  except  for  the  moonlight  and 
snowlight  that  poured  in  through  the  loggia,  and  for 
the  one  circle-pool  of  radiance  that  fell  from  the  down- 
held  torch  on  to  the  crimson  center  of  the  shawl  on 
the  floor. 

Rukh  moved  to  the  mantel,  and  threw  the  strong 
light  of  the  torch  full  upon  the  idol  standing  there, 
grinned  at  it  slowly,  made  a  low  ironic  salaam,  and 
turned  away,  still  smiling  a  little,  lighting  himself  to 
the  door.  As  he  went  the  bird  of  prey  screamed 
again,  directly  over  the  loggia  now  it  sounded,  so  near 
that  its  wings  might  rasp  against  the  roof — roosting 
there  perhaps — an  ugly,  tuneless  cry  of  an  untamed, 
implacable  thing,  but  lower  and  slower,  more  throated 
than  it  had  sounded  before — this  sounded  the  mon 
strous  gurgle  of  gluttony  replete  and  content. 

The  great  hovering  beast-bird  screamed  once  more. 
But  the  gong  did  not  speak  again. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

IT  took  pluck — to  go  through  it  without  a  whimper, 
without  one  flicker  of  the  white  feather  for  any 
inimical  other  to  see  and  report,  or  even  for  the  soli 
tude  and  their  own  tortured  souls  to  see — what  they 
had  to  go  through  that  night — three  of  them,  each 
alone,  at  bay,  well-nigh  in  absolute  despair,  impris 
oned  in  a  wild  far-off,  unknown  place.  It  took  pluck. 
But  they  had  it. 

When  the  ayah  had  gone — dismissed  by  a  smile  and 
a  gesture  of  thanks — the  native  woman  not,  Lucilla 
Crespin  thought,  utterly  pitiless — Lucilla  knelt  down 
by  her  bed.  She  knelt  there  a  long  time,  keeping  a 
tryst  her  father  had  taught  her. 

When  she  rose  she  stood  a  while  at  the  wide  window 
looking  out  at  the  golden-white  night,  her  face  twisted 
in  torture,  but  kindled  from  prayer. 

Nowhere  else  does  the  maiden-hair  fern  grow  as  it 
grows  in  Rukh,  in  such  few  soil-filled  cracks  as  the 
great  mountains  carry  on  their  sides.  From  where  she 
stood  they  looked  to  feather  a  world  of  imperial  snow 
and  grim  stone  exquisitely  with  filmy  green.  The  light 
was  so  clear  that  every  frond  showed — and  often  the 
fronds  were  a  foot  long,  but  as  delicately  cut  as  those 
in  English  ferneries.  At  the  base  of  the  crag  where 
the  great  horn  stood  a  very  meadow  of  them  grew — 
with  great  trumpet-shaped  flowers  here  and  there 
among  them.  A  lump  came  in  her  throat — her  father 
had  cared  so  much  for  his  maiden-hair  ferns!  She 
looked  away  from  them.  She  counted  three  temples, 

209 


210  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

snow-white  in  the  moonlight.  She  shuddered.  Should 
she  live  on  through  this  night  to  die  on  a  heathen  tem 
ple  floor?  Or  should  she  take  the  other  way — now,  if 
she  could  ?  Yes !  No — they  might  escape  it  yet — and 
the  babies ! 

She  closed  the  silk-curtains,  and  went  resolutely  to 
bed.  Her  body  was  weary  from  the  long  flight,  the 
crash,  the  harrowing  incidents  that  had  followed  the 
forced  landing,  the  worse  that  had  followed — the  strain 
in  the  salon,  and  at  dinner,  the  terrible  climax. 
Heavens,  how  tired  she  was!  She  would  need  the 
best  use  of  her  body  to-morrow,  if  only  to  carry  it 
bravely;  wisest  to  rest  it  to-night.  She  might  not  be 
able  to  force  her  mind  to  rest — for,  if  her  body  was 
strained  and  tired,  what  of  it ! — but  her  muscles  were 
hers  still  to  command,  and  they  should  obey  her,  she'd 
lay  them  down,  loosened,  unfettered,  and  they  at  least 
should  relax  and  rest. 

She  lay  a  long  time,  alone  in  that  strange  place,  not 
knowing  what  might  come  to  her  there  or  when — she 
wished  the  native  woman  had  stayed — why  had  she 
not  detained  her? — lay  perfectly  still,  keeping  tryst: 
tryst  with  her  father,  tryst  with  the  old  Surrey  garden, 
tryst  with  her  children,  tryst  with  Antony  as  she  had 
known  and  loved  him  before  the  knowing  and  love 
were  spoiled,  tryst  with  the  first  days  she  remembered 
— old  dolls,  old  lessons,  old  games,  old  childish  sorrows 
and  joys.  She  kept  tryst  with  her  girlhood.  She  fed 
the  pigeons  again,  she  rode  her  first  pony,  and 
gave  it  an  apple,  a  red  wine-full  one  off  the  ribston 
tree  near  the  garden  pump,  she  gathered  the  roses  from 
the  bush  she  loved  best  and  the  heliotrope  from  her 
favorite  bed.  She  kept  tryst  with  her  own  faults,  mis 
takes,  failures — as  we  all  must  once  in  life  at  least. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  211 

She  kept  tryst  with  her  own  soul  there  alone  in  that 
strange,  luxurious  room  which  was  the  prison  cell  from 
which  she  might  pass  to  her  terrible  mangling  death. 
And  she  kept  tryst  too  with  that  red,  knifed  death  it 
self—God! 

She  fell  asleep. 

She  dreamed,  and  once  she  smiled  in  her  sleep. 

But  when  she  woke  her  champa-per fumed  pillow  was 
wet.  Too,  she  had  wept  in  her  sleep. 

Crespin  sat  all  night  on  his  bed,  and  thought.  He 
too  kept  tryst.  In  such  times  of  crisis  and  testing  every 
human  soul  must  do  that.  He  thought  of  his  babies, 
snug  asleep  now  in  Pahari  while  their  faithful  ayah 
lay  on  the  floor  between  the  two  little  beds,  and  a  sentry 
far  off  in  the  cantonment  called  to  some  late-comer 
who  had  given  the  password,  "Pass,  friend.  All's 
well."  He  thought  of  his  mother — the  mother  for 
whom  his  fond,  boyish  passion  and  loyalty  never  had 
dwindled — he  slipped  his  hand  again  in  hers,  he  held 
her  close  in  his  arms,  holding  her  reverently,  all  love 
and  no  judgment  of  her  in  his  heart.  He  chalked  up 
a  long  account  against  himself.  He  knew  how  he'd 
stumbled.  But,  too,  he  knew  how  he'd  tried!  And 
perhaps  God  did — and  counted  it  more  than  Crespin 
counted  it. 

Traherne  came  through  it  worst  of  all.  Till  day 
broke  he  paced  the  floor,  forming  plan  after  plan,  re 
jecting  them  one  after  one — all  but  one — planning  how 
to  send  the  woman  who  was  Crespin's  wife  to  a  pain 
less  death,  before  he  was  put  to  death — if  it  came  to 
that — to  kill  her  with  his  own  hand  rather  than  leave 
her  behind  them,  alone  in  Rukh;  it  must  not  come  to 
that!  It  should  not,  he  swore.  But  how?  How? 
That  was  a  difficult  rub.  The  possibilities  of  escape 


212  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

for  all  three  of  them,  and  how  they  should  seize  upon 
and  use  them  must  be  left  to  chance,  if  by  any  great 
fluke  such  chance  came  at  all.  It  would  be  idle  to 
speculate  upon  that  now.  But  how  to  kill  Lucilla,  how 
and  when?  But  it  must  be  done,  if  the  other  chance 
never  came.  In  all  probability  it  must  be  done.  He 
shook  at  the  thought,  but  worse  he  sickened  at  the  fear 
of  its  failure.  He  had  a  few  drugs  with  him,  a  few 
simple  remedies — he  was  too  good  an  airman  and 
physician  to  fly  without  lozenges  and  ointments — and 
his  miniature  case  was  still  intact  in  his  flying  kit  there 
on  the  floor — but  there  was  not  a  human  death  in  the 
lot.  How  ?  Sweat  broke  out  on  his  forehead.  How  ? 
Somehow !  That  much  was  fixed.  He'd  strangle  her, 
if  needs  be,  with  his  hands,  rather  than  leave  her  alone 
to  this  Raja  of  Rukh.  With  his  own  hands  that  had 
trembled  in  spite  of  his  will,  if  by  chance  they  had 
touched  but  some  garment  of  hers,  an  intimate  belong 
ing  even !  He  looked  down  at  them.  How  they  were 
trembling  now !  With  the  hands  that  had  ached  to 
caress  her,  to  take  a  lover's  right  of  her  sweetness! 
Could  they  do  it?  And  if  she  struggled — as  the  physi 
cian  knew  tortured  human  flesh  must  when  agony 
gripped  it,  let  the  soul  it  housed  be  never  so  dauntless 
and  fixed — if  she  struggled  could  he  persist?  He  must 
— if  it  came  to  it.  And  his  face  fixed  into  tortured 
hardness,  as  might  a  surgeon's,  forced  to  perform,  in 
the  absence  of  Surgery's  holy  handmaid  and  friend, 
Anaesthetic,  a  painful,  major  operation  on  his  only 
child. 

Traherne  kept  few  trysts  that  night  as  he  paced  the 
floor  of  the  palace  room.  But  he  registered  a  grim 
oath,  never  again,  if  he  lived  to  escape  from  Rukh,  to 
fly  without  either  cyanide  of  potassium  or  chloroform. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  213 

But  he'd  not  fly  again,  he  thought,  if  he  lived  to  be 
free.  That  last  fatal  flight  in  which  he  had  piloted  the 
woman  he  loved  to  a  hideous  death — or  worse — had 
turned  him  forever  sick  of  air  goings.  He  went  to 
the  window,  and  looked  out  at  the  night  in  its  pageant 
and  splendor,  and  he  cursed  the  Himalayas.  He  cursed 
them  with  gibbering  lips,  and  he  shook  his  fist  at  the 
great  beautiful  mountains. 

Down  near  the  little  white  temple  the  wing  of  his 
broken  aeroplane  caught  his  eye  where  it  stuck  out 
from  behind  a  crag  of  rock,  etched  clear  and  sharp  by 
the  radiant  moonlight.  And  he  cursed  the  aeroplane 
too — the  craft  he  had  mourned  almost  boyishly — cursed 
it  low  and  long,  as  men  curse  the  things  their  own 
wrong  handling  has  ruined,  from  women  to  shirt-studs. 

What  was  she  doing?  How  was  it  faring  with  her? 
Was  she  safe  even  now  ?  At  the  thought  and  its  fear 
he  grew  faint — the  room  swam — the  mountains 
swayed.  And  he  could  do  nothing!  He  sickened  vio 
lently,  actually,  at  the  thought  of  what  might  be  be 
falling  her  even  now — while  he  stood  here  agape  at  a 
moon,  and  a  theatrical  painted  scene  of  mountains  and 
stones  and  sky! — and  the  thought  of  what  she  must 
be  suffering  in  her  solitude,  even  if  diabolical  revenge 
still  left  it  inviolate,  maddened  him  only  less. 

Antony  Crespin  and  Lucilla,  his  wife,  thought  of 
many  things  as  the  hideous  night  hours  wore  away. 
But  Basil  Traherne  thought  only  of  one.  Of  the  three 
he  suffered  the  most — perhaps  because  his  pain  was 
concentrated.  No  thought  of  a  career  blasted,  cut 
short,  no  regret  for  ambitions  nipped  and  thwarted, 
crossed  his  mind  for  an  instant.  He  no  more  thought 
of  Science — mistress  and  wife,  mother  and  child  to  him 
till  Lucilla  had  come,  not  to  usurp  but  to  share  its 


214  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

throne — than  he  did  of  the  Elgin  Marbles  or  the  Odes 
of  Horace.  Science  had  been  his  meat  and  his  drink, 
the  food  of  his  soul,  his  motif  of  life.  And  if  he  had 
thought  of  that  Science  now,  he  would  have  cursed 
it  too,  as  he  had  cursed  the  poor  broken  plane  and 
the  great  snow-wrapped  mountain  peaks.  Traherne 
thought  of  but  one  thing :  Lucilla. 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  too  kept  tryst  as  the  far  moon 
rode  higher  and  higher,  gilding  the  goat-tracks  and 
the  thin  hill-rills,  turning  the  temples  and  roofs  to 
silver  and  gold,  splashing  the  mountains  with  silver  and 
gold,  turning  the  gray  rock  crags  into  copper,  the 
brown  into  russet  and  bronze.  He  sat  alone,  loose- 
robed,  cross-legged  on  a  nest  of  great  cushions,  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  his  face  turned  to  the  Southwest 
where  he  knew  Abdulabad  lay.  He  kept  no  tryst  with 
the  girl-wife  newly  dead  over  there  in  the  harem,  the 
women  wailing  about  her,  strewing  rose-leaves  and  in 
cense  and  aguru  over  her  garments,  gave  no  thought  to 
their  new-born  child.  He  gave  no  thought  to  the  Eng 
lishwoman  alone  in  her  prison-chamber,  none  to  the 
two  Englishmen.  He  was  in  Abdulabad  keeping  their 
death-watch  with  his  brothers.  Oriental  thought  tra 
vels  and  visualizes,  as  the  thought  of  no  Western  can. 
He  was  with  them  in  their  gaol.  Their  failure  and 
capture  galled  him,  the  ignominy  of  the  death  by  rope 
shamed  him. 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  had  told  Mrs.  Crespin  the  truth. 
He  loved  himself  first — if  so  small,  so  wormlike  a 
thing  as  self -centered  selfishness  may  be  called  by  so 
big  a  name;  and  his  children — above  all  La-swak — 
came  next,  his  people  third.  For  his  sons'  sake,  above 
all  for  La-swak's,  his  regret  at  his  brothers'  capture 
was  more  than  tinged  with  relief.  It  cut  a  troublesome 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  215 

knot  of  his  own,  it  left  La-swak's  succession  compara 
tively  safe.  Masterly  inactivity  was  his  fixed  convic 
tion  and  purpose.  He  had  no  intention  of  rousing  a 
British  hornet's  nest  to  buzz  and  sting  about  the  fortress 
and  huts  of  Rukh.  He  intended  to  keep  his  inheritance, 
his  ease,  his  absolutism  and  his  own  skin  intact.  But, 
too,  he  loved  his  brothers.  He  suffered  their  pain, 
he  shared  their  plight.  Boyhood's  friendliness,  theirs 
and  his,  before  he'd  been  sent  to  England,  gripped 
and  griped  him.  The  Raja  of  Rukh  kept  their  death- 
watch  with  his  brothers,  and  mist  gathered  and  thick 
ened  in  his  somber  eyes. 

He  was  in  Abdulabad,  and  he  did  not  hear  a  woman 
enter,  or  see  her  until  she  came  close  before  him  and 
salaamed  more  than  once  salaamed  a  little  insistently 
at  last. 

Rukh  glanced  up  slowly,  and  nodded  to  the  ayah — 
Watkins'  "wife" — to  speak. 

"She  sleeps,  Supreme  One,"  the  woman  said.  "I 
have  brought  it." 

Rukh  held  out  his  hand,  and  the  ayah,  salaaming 
again,  laid  a  little  gold  locket  in  his  palm. 
•     "Sleeps?"  he  questioned.    "Is  she  drugged?" 

"Nay,"  the  woman  told  him.  "I  watched  through 
the  lattice,  as  Your  Greatness  commanded.  Nothing 
has  passed  the  Feringhi  woman's  lips  since  she  left  the 
great  salon." 

"No  syringe?    Her  arm?" 

"Not  so,  Royal  Master,  nothing." 

"Who  watches  her  now?"  Rukh  demanded. 

"Po-nunk,  Powerful  One." 

"So  she  sleeps !  That  is  pluck !  True  pluck !"  The 
Raja  of  Rukh  liked  pluck — it  was  the  one  masculine 
quality  he  approved  of  in  a  woman.  So  the  English- 


216  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

woman  slept!  He  liked  her  for  that.  It  might  be  just 
utter  exhaustion,,  of  course,  trying  to  knit  up  the 
raveled  sleeve  of  her  long,  hard  day's  care.  But  he 
believed  it  was  pluck  of  character  far  more  than  fatigue 
of  body.  He  believed  it  was  pluck.  And  he  preferred 
to  think  it  that.  He  liked  her  for  it !  The  brave,  deli 
cate  one ! 

He  opened  the  locket,  and  scrutinized  its  pictures 
thoughtfully. 

"She  bears  beautiful  children,"  he  said  with  a 
thoughtful  smile,  as  he  handed  it  back.  "Put  it  back 
again  where  it  was.  See  that  you  do  not  wake  her," 
he  commanded. 

As  the  ayah  closed  the  door,  he  repeated  softly, 
cruelly  too,  "She  bears  beautiful  children." 

He  rose  and  rang  a  bell. 

Watkins  came — but  not  at  once. 

"Well?"  the  Raja  demanded,  speaking  in  English, 
"do  they  sleep?" 

"Like  hornets  on  the  war-path,  Your  'Ighness." 

Rukh  laughed. 

"Good  !"  he  said.    "Has  the  Major  asked  for  liquor?" 

"For  nothink,  Your  'Ighness.  Neither  of  'em  'as 
asked  for  nothink." 

"Remember  not  to  stint  them,  if  they  do,"  the  Raja 
ordered.  "Make  them  perfectly  comfortable — espe 
cially  the  Major.  I  rather  like  the  Major,  Watkins. 
That  is  all." 

"Very  good,  Your  'Ighness,  thank  you,"  Watkins 
replied  colorlessly,  and  left  the  room  so  quietly  that  he 
seemed  to  fade  away. 

Watkins  went  back  to  his  divided  watch  deliberately 
— almost  as  if  he  took  little  satisfaction  in  it,  and  there 
was  no  truculence  on  his  mean,  bad  face  as  he  went. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  217 

He  was  not  much  English,  but  he  was  English.  Old 
memories — not  very  pleasant  ones  though — were  stir 
ring  a  little,  and  presently,  not  knowing  that  he  did, 
under  his  breath  he  whistled,  rather  in  dirgelike  time 
and  color,  a  few  bars  of  "The  Old  Kent  Road." 

Rukh  stood  in  his  casement,  and  looked  out  towards 
the  Southwest,  where  Abdulabad  lay  behind  the  moun 
tains.  "You  who  are  about  to  die,  I  salute  you,"  he 
said.  "Well,"  he  added,  "Kismet!"  Then  he  crossed 
back  to  his  cushions,  loosened  his  robes  still  more,  threw 
off  his  girdle,  lay  down  on  the  comfortable  pillows. 
And  as  the  day  broke  over  Rukh,  washing  the  great 
snow-capped  Himalayas  with  carmine  and  rose  and 
violet  and  beryl-green,  its  Raja  slept  like  a  child. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

W ATKINS  opened  the  door  of  the  Raja's  snug 
gery,  and  withdrew  as  he  ushered  Crespin  in, 
and  Crespin  came  in  sulkily  enough.  He  looked  about 
him  quickly  and  apprehensively  and  finding  himself 
quite  alone,  began  wandering  about  aimlessly,  nervous 
and  irritable. 

It  was  an  uncommonly  pleasant  room — entirely  Eu 
ropean  and  modern,  its  comfort  contrasting  greatly 
with  the  old-fashioned  and  somewhat  comfortless  splen 
dor  of  the  great  salon  in  which  the  Raja  had  enter 
tained  and  mocked  and  sentenced  them  the  night  be 
fore.  Everything  was  in  exquisite  order — the  silver 
fittings  on  the  fine  writing  table,  the  flowers  in  a 
vase  and  bowl  or  two — not  too  many — the  papers 
and  books,  the  pipes  in  their  rack,  and  there  was  only 
one  clock. 

This  room  was  high  up  in  the  great  bastioned  build 
ing;  standing  at  the  great  open  window,  one  seemed 
to  be  level  with  the  distant  high  mountain  peaks  still 
rosy  over  their  snow,  across  the  narrow  valley  where 
sheep  and  goats,  mere  specks  so  far  below,  were  brows 
ing,  and  white,  humped  bullocks. 

Crespin  paid  no  respects  to  the  scenery  spread  before 
him.  The  Alps  could  boast  nothing  to  match  this, 
but  nothing  in  nature  could  appeal  to  Antony  Crespin 
now.  How  could  it?  He  grunted  disconsolately. 
Then  he  stared  at  the  doors,  and  counted  them  moodily. 
The  doors  appealed  to  him,  if  the  scenic  beauty  did  not. 
Doors  whispered  of  escape.  He  tiptoed  heavily  to  the 
large  folding  door  that  half  filled  one  wall.  He  tapped 

218 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  219 

it  softly  but  carefully,  with  speculative,  anxious  fingers. 
It  felt  a  particularly  solid  and  formidable  door.  Very 
cautiously  he  tried  it.  It  was  locked.  With  another 
unhappy  grunt  he  turned  back,  and  roamed  aimlessly 
about  the  room. 

"What  a  hell  of  a  lot  of  books,"  he  muttered  dis 
gustedly,  "nothing  but  books.  His  Nibs  must  be  a 
what-you-may-call-it,  or  want  one  to  think  he  is." 
And  the  cozy,  homelike  snuggery  was  very  full  of 
books.  Low  bookcases  lined  all  the  walls,  wherever 
there  was  available  space  for  them;  they  were  filled 
with  serious  looking  modern  books,  but  Major  Crespin 
did  not  investigate  that.  On  the  top  of  one  bookcase 
stood  a  large  beautifully  executed  bust  of  Napoleon 
' — which  the  English  Major  recognized.  Over  an 
other,  facing  the  writing-table,  hung  an  admirable 
black  and  white  portrait  of  Nietzsche — which  he  did 
not  recognize.  A  few  good  sporting  prints — Leach 
at  his  best — caught  his  eye,  and  would  have  held  and 
delighted  him  at  a  more  normal  time.  There  was  not 
a  small  chair  in  the  place ;  all  were  roomy  and  inviting 
and  luxuriously  padded,  most  of  them  covered  in  green 
morocco  to  match  the  great  luxurious  couch.  Crespin 
twirled  the  revolving  bookcase,  that  stood  to  hand  by 
the  writing-table,  about,  and  frowned  viciously  at  its 
contents :  the  Britannica  and  lesser  but  erudite  books 
of  reference. 

But  a  tantalus  with  attendant  syphon  and  glasses 
attracted  his  notice  next.  "Hello!  Good-morning," 
he  told  it.  He  hesitated  unhappily  a  moment  or  two, 
looked  over  his  shoulder  stealthily,  miserably;  looked 
back  at  the  whiskey-filled  tantalus,  and  poured  himself 
out  a  stiff  peg.  He  held  his  glass  up  to  the  light,  look 
ing  at  it  thirstily,  gloatingly,  put  it  down,  and  shuffled 


220  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

about  the  room  once  more.  He  bit  his  lip,  looked  back 
at  the  liquor,  looked  away  from  it  quickly,  and  moved 
resolutely  to  another  closed  door.  It  opened  readily. 
Crespin  peeped  into  the  inner  room,  and  closed  the 
door  again,  muttering,  "Billiards,  begad!"  Back  to 
the  writing  table  he  fingered  its  silver.  He  picked 
up  a  vase,  and  snuffed  at  its  flowers.  He  took  up  a 
paper.  It  proved  to  be  La  Vie  P arisienne ,  and  he 
threw  it  down  with  an  insular  and  characteristic  com 
ment:  "French  muck!"  Another  paper  lying  on  the 
couch  caught  his  eye  next.  He  went  and  got  it — any 
thing  to  keep  his  eyes  and  his  ringers  away  from  the 
tumbler  in  which  the  soda  was  going  flat.  This  turned 
out  to  be  printed  in  Russian.  "My  hat !"  was  his  dis 
gusted  comment  as  he  flung  it  down. 

He  hurried  back  to  the  revolving  bookcase  with  the 
Encyclopedia,  Roget's  "Thesaurus"  and  "Who's  Who" 
on  its  shelves,  and  cutglass  and  alcohol,  alleviation  and 
temptation,  on  its  top,  seized  the  tumbler  he'd  filled 
to  the  brim — the  soda  was  dead,  but  that  didn't  matter, 
he'd  not  put  much  soda  in  it.  His  lips  were  twitching 
a  little  as  he  lifted  to  them  the  stimulant  they  craved. 
All  his  being  craved  it — needed  it  perhaps.  On  the 
point  of  drinking,  the  rim  to  his  mouth,  Antony  Cres 
pin  hesitated  again,  shuddered  a  little,  and  hurried 
to  the  open  window.  "No,"  the  man  muttered,  and 
pitched  the  liquid  out  of  the  casement.  Antony  Cres 
pin,  after  a  border  "shindy,"  had  been  decorated  and 
mentioned  in  despatches,  for  less  than  that.  His  face 
had  paled  when  he  put  the  glass  back  in  its  place. 
As  he  was  doing  it  Traherne  came  into  the  room. 

"There!"  Crespin  sniggered  weakly,  "you  think 
you've  caught  me!" 

"Caught  you?" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  221 

"Lushing,"  Crespin  persisted.  "But  I  haven't  been. 
I  threw  the  stuff  out  of  the  window.  God  knows  I 
wanted  it,  but  for  Lucilla's  sake,  I  must  keep  all  my 
wits  about  me."  His  voice  cracked  as  he  spoke,  and 
at  that,  and  the  illness  in  his  eyes,  Traherne  watching 
him  wondered  if  he  ought  not  to  prescribe  it.  But 
instead  he  said  cheerfully,  "Yes,  if  we  can  all  do  that, 
we  may  pull  through  yet." 

"Did  you  sleep?"  Crespin  asked. 

"Not  a  wink.    And  you?" 

"Dozed  and  woke  again  fifteen  times  in  a  minute," 
Crespin  told  him.  "A  hellish  night." 

"Have  you  any  news  of  Mrs.  Crespin?" 

Crespin  nodded.  "But  only  this.  She  sent  me  this 
chit."  He  pulled  the  scrap  of  note-paper  from  his 
pocket,  and  offered  it  to  Traherne. 

Traherne  took  it,  and  read  it  slowly  aloud.  "  'Have 
slept  and  am  feeling  better.  Keep  the  flag  flying/ 
What  pluck  she  has!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  handed 
it  back. 

"Yes,"  Crespin  said  gravely,  "she's  game — always 
was." 

"She  reminds  me,"  the  other  told  him,  "of  the 
women  in  the  French  Revolution.  We  might  all  be 
in  the  Conciergerie,  waiting  to  hear  the  tumbrils." 

"It  would  be  more  endurable  if  we  were,"  Major 
Crespin  muttered  huskily — "were  in  prison.  It's  this 
appearance  of  freedom — the  scoundrel's  damned  airs 
of  politeness  and  hospitality — that  makes  the  thing 
such  a  nightmare."  Mechanically  he  took  up  the  tan 
talus  again,  and  quite  mechanically  mixed  himself  an 
other  whiskey  and  soda.  "Do  you  believe  we're  really 
awake,  Traherne?  If  I  were  alone,  I'd  think  the 
whole  thing  a  nightmare;  but  you  and  Lucilla  seem 


222  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

to  be  dreaming  it  too."  His  voice  husked  again  as 
he  said  it,  and  he  raised  the  glass  quickly.  But  again 
he  remembered  when  it  was  just  at  his  lips,  and 
crashed  the  glass  down.  "Damn  it!"  The  cut  glass 
was  thick,  and  it  did  not  break. 

"Some  day,"  Dr.  Traherne  said  wistfully,  "we  may 
look  back  upon  it  as  on  a  bad  dream." 

Crespin  shook  his  head  moodily.  "He  does  you 
well,  curse  him,"  he  cried.  "They  served  me  a  most 
dainty  chota  hazri  this  morning,  and  with  it  a  glass 
of  rare  old  fine  champagne." 

"Yes,"  Traherne  commented,  "the  Orientals  know 
how  to  refine  cruelty  to  the  wth  degree,  when  they 
choose.  Where  does  that  door  lead?"  he  asked, 
pointing. 

"To  a  billiard-room.  Billiards !"  Crespin  laughed — 
and  at  the  laugh's  quality  the  physician  looked  at  him 
anxiously. 

"And  this  one?"  he  went  on,  in  a  moment,  again 
pointing. 

Crespin  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  know.  It's 
locked — and  a  very  solid  door,  too." 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think?"  Traherne  drew  a 
step  nearer,  and  spoke  low. 

"Yes,"  Crespin  replied  instantly;  "and  I  agree  with 
you." 

"Opening  off  the  fellow's  own  sanctum,"  Traherne 
went  on. 

Crespin  nodded.  "It's  probably  the  wireless  room," 
he  said  still  lower. 

They  stood  and  looked  at  each  other,  steadily,  sig 
nificantly — saying  nothing.  There  was  no  need. 

"And  what's  out  here?"  Traherne  was  pointing 
to  the  window. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  223 

"Take  a  look,"  Crespin  told  him  tersely. 

Traherne  crossed  the  room,  and  leaned  over  the 
window's  sill.  He  whistled.  "A  sheer  drop  of  a 
hundred  feet,"  he  pronounced  slowly. 

"And  a  dry  torrent  below,"  Major  Crespin  added 
insinuatingly.  "How  if  we  were  to  pick  up  our  host, 
Traherne,  and  gently  drop  him  on  those  razor-edged 
rocks?" 

Traherne's  eyes  glittered  hungrily,  but  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  discouragingly,  and  said,  "As  he  remark 
ed  last  night,  they'd  tear  us  to  pieces  the  quicker." 

"If  it  weren't  for  Lucilla,  I'm  damned  if  I  wouldn't 
do  it  all  the  same,"  Major  Crespin  muttered. 

Again  they  stood  and  stared  into  each  other's  faces 
— sharing  a  thought,  baffled,  at  bay,  but  not  "all  in" 
yet,  not  defeated  yet. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

SEVERAL  moments  passed,  and  neither  moved, 
neither  spoke  again,  neither  lowered  his  eyes. 

They  stood  so — still,  grim,  determined,  but  not  yet 
seeing  their  way — when  Rukh  strolled  into  the  room, 
debonnaire,  spick  and  span  in  the  latest  Bond  Street 
Rotten  Row  attire. 

He  accosted  them  instantly,  jauntily,  and  hospitably. 
"Good-morning,  Major!  Good-morning,  Doctor! 
How  do  you  like  my  snuggery?  I  hope  you  have 
slept  well  ?"  Neither  answered  him.  "No  ?  Ah,  per 
haps  you  find  this  altitude  trying?  Never  mind.  We 
have  methods  of  dealing  with  insomnia." 

Antony  Crespin  answered  him  then.  "Come  now, 
Raja,"  he  complained  lustily;  "a  joke's  a  joke,  but 
this  cat-and-mouse  business  gets  on  one's  nerves. 
Make  arrangements  to  send  us  back  to  the  nearest 
British  outpost,  and  we'll  give  you  our  Bible  oath  to 
say  nothing  about  the — pleasantry  you've  played  on 
us." 

"Send  you  back,  my  dear  Major?"  The  Raja  held 
up  slim  horror-shocked  hands,  but  under  their  lowered 
lids  his  dark  eyes  danced  wickedly.  "I  assure  you,  if 
I  were  ever  so  willing,  it  would  be  as  much  as  my 
place  is  worth.  You  don't  know  how  my  faithful 
subjects  are  looking  forward  to  to-morrow's  ceremony. 
I  have  just  come  in  from  my  morning  ride,  and  in  all 
my  experience  of  them,  I  have  never  before  been  so 
acclaimed,  met  with  such  bubbling  enthusiasm,  such 
gratitude.  They  are  children,  and  they  are  demented 
with  their  childish  joy  and  anticipation  of  to-morrow. 

224 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  225 

If  I  tried  to  cancel  it,  there  would  be  a  revolution. 
You  must  be  reasonable,  my  dear  sir."  He  spoke  in 
a  low  purring  voice — a  caress  in  it  even — more  vin 
dictive,  more  implacable  than  any  explosive  show  of 
hatred  and  malice  could  have  been,  and  seated  himself 
carelessly  at  his  writing-table. 

Crespin  turned  on  him  furiously. 

"Do  you  think  we  would  truckle  to  you,  damn  you, 
if  it  weren't  for  my  wife's  sake?  But  for  her  we'll 
make  any  concession — promise  you  anything." 

"What  can  you  that  is  worth  a  brass  farthing  to 
me?"  Rukh  retorted.  "No."  He  spoke  vehemently 
now,  pent  up  ferocity  storming  out  from  angry  voice, 
hate-full  eyes  and  eloquent,  quivering  hands.  "Asia," 
he  hissed,  "has  a  long  score  against  you  swaggering, 
blustering,  whey-faced  lords  of  creation,  and,  by  all 
the  gods!  I  mean  to  see  some  of  it  paid  to-morrow!" 
His  show  of  storm  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come. 
He  added  suavely,  "But  in  the  meantime  there  is  no 
reason  why  we  shouldn't  behave  like  civilized  beings. 
How  would  you  like  to  pass  the  morning?  I'm  sorry 
I  can't  offer  you  any  shooting.  I  mustn't  lead  you 
into  temptation.  What  do  you  say  to  billiards?  It 
soothes  the  nerves.  Here  is  the  billiard-room,"  he 
told  them,  and  opened  the  door.  "I  have  a  little  busi 
ness  to  attend  to,  but  I'll  join  you  presently." 

"Of  all  the  infernal,  purring  devils — !"  Crespin 
broke  out,  beside  himself  with  fury  and  impotence. 

The  Raja  laughed  indulgently.  "Dignity,  Major, 
dignity!"  he  reminded  him  with  intolerable  good 
nature. 

Crespin,  almost  demented,  raised  a  threatening 
hand,  but  Dr.  Traherne  interposed  himself  determin 
edly  between  the  seething  Englishman  and  the  still 


226  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

smiling  native,  laid  a  firm  reminding  hand  on  Crespin's 
shoulder,  and  pushed  and  shepherded  him  across  the 
floor,  through  the  door,  and  into  the  billiard-room. 
And  almost  at  once,  Rukh,  listening,  heard  the  steady 
click  of  the  billiard-balls. 

They  were  playing  the  game  again — and  the  Raja's 
face  lit  with  an  admiring  smile.  He  liked  their  grit. 

Indeed,  it  scarcely  could  be  said  that  he  did  not 
also  like — as  individuals — the  two  men  in  there  whom 
he  certainly  purposed  to  put  to  death  the  next  day. 
He  hated  the  thing  they  stood  for,  he  resented  their 
presence  in  Asia — because  of  what  it  signified  and 
exampled,  but  he  had  no  actual  dislike  either  of  Dr. 
Traherne  or  of  Major  Crespin.  He  had  intense  bias, 
unalterable  convictions,  but,  in  telling  Lucilla  Crespin 
that  he  had  no  prejudices,  if  he  had  boasted,  he  had  but 
boasted  a  fact.  And  he  had  too  acute  a  mind,  and  had 
lived  and  seen  too  much  to  bear  ill-grudge  for  expres 
sions  of  dislike  and  contempt  wrung  out  of  his  pris 
oners  by  the  torture  of  their  dire  plight.  They  were 
not  Orientals — it  was  their  misfortune,  not  their 
fault — and  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  they  should 
bear  either  anguish  of  mind  or  anguish  of  body  with 
the  suave  dignity  that  an  Oriental  both  by  instinct  and 
by  the  teaching  of  precedent  would.  "No  man  is 
bound  to  impossibilities."  That,  he  remembered,  was 
an  old  axiom  of  the  Roman  law — and  of  Nature's  law 
too.  The  game  went  on — the  last  billiards  the  players 
would  ever  play — were  they  thinking  of  that?  The 
even,  careful  click  of  the  ivory  balls  came  steadily  in 
to  him  here.  They  were  whispering,  scheming,  plan 
ning,  of  course,  though  no  sound  of  it  reached  him 
where  he  sat  at  the  writing-table.  Let  them.  They 
were  welcome  to  plan  what  they  would.  They  were 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  227 

powerless  to  do  anything  but  meet  with  what  forti 
tude  of  bearing  they  could  the  death  he  had  decreed 
them — had  decreed,  and  tomorrow  at  sunset  would 
enforce. 

Rukh  drew  a  pad  of  paper  a  little  nearer  his  hand, 
picked  up  a  pencil,  pressed  the  bell  beside  him,  and  fell 
to  thinking  how  he  should  word  what  he  was  about 
to  write. 

"Your  'Ighness  rang?"  Watkins  said,  in  a  few  mo 
ments,  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  Watkins,"  the  white  servant's  brown 
master  ordered  without  looking  up.  "Just  close  the 
billiard-room  door,  will  you?"  . 

The  valet  glanced  into  the  billiard-room  as  he  was 
obeying.  "They're  good  plucked  'uns,  sir;  I  will  say 
that,"  he  blurted  out  admiringly  as  he  came  to  the 
Raja's  side. 

"Yes,"  the  ruler  agreed,  "there's  some  satisfaction 
in  handling  them.  I'm  glad  they're  not  abject — it 
would  spoil  the  sport." 

"Quite  so,  sir,"  was  the  grim  response. 

"But  it  has  occurred  to  me,  Watkins,"  Rukh  looked 
up  for  the  first  time,  "that  perhaps  it's  not  quite  safe 
to  have  them  so  near  the  wireless  room.  Their  one 
chance  would  be  to  get  into  wireless  communication 
with  India.  They  appeared  last  night  to  know  noth 
ing  about  wireless,  but  I  have  my  doubts.  Most  British 
service  officers  know  something  of  it  now.  Tell  me, 
Watkins,  have  they  made  any  attempt  to  bribe  you?" 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  Watkins  said  cryptically. 

"Ha,  that  looks  bad,"  the  Raja  observed  regretfully. 
"It  looks  as  if  they  had  something  else  up  their  sleeves, 
and  were  leaving  bribery  to  the  last  resort.  I  want  to 
test  their  ignorance  of  wireless.  I  want  you,  in  their 


228  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

presence,  to  send  out  some  message  that  is  bound  to 
startle  or  enrage  them,  and  see  if  they  show  any  sign 
of  understanding  it." 

"That's  a  notion,  sir,"  Watkins  exclaimed  with  a 
grin  of  applause.  His  manner  when  he  and  Rukh  were 
alone  was  no  less  respectful — he  knew  that  his  head 
answered  for  that — but  it  was  less  wooden  and  servant- 
impersonal  than  it  was  before  others.  And  when  alone 
they  invariably  spoke  English,  as  indeed  they  usually 
did  at  other  times. 

Rukh  grinned  back  at  Watkins.  The  child  in  him 
liked  applause  and  sucked  it,  even  from  an  inferior  he 
despised. 

"But,"  he  said  with  a  bothered  frown,  rising  and 
moving  aimlessly  towards  the  wireless  room,  "I  can't 
think  of  a  message." 

If  that  was  an  appeal,  Watkins  ignored  it.  He  made 
no  attempt  to  help  the  prince  to  a  sufficiently  effective 
and  stinging  message.  Sage  Watkins  obeyed  orders 
implicitly;  he  never  assumed  responsibility.  If  the 
Raja  of  Rukh  fumbled  and  waited  for  a  cue,  the  valet 
did  not  feel  it  his  place  to  give  it.  And  he  had  volun 
teered  more  now  than  he  often  volunteered.  He  stood 
perfectly  still  and  waited — waited  perfectly. 

At  the  door  of  the  wireless-room  the  Raja  paused 
suddenly,  and  fingered  the  lock,  making  sure  that  it 
was  well  secure.  And  as  he  stood  doing  it  the  ayah 
opened  the  corridor  door,  and  Mrs.  Crespin  passed 
by  her  into  the  snuggery.  She  did  not  see  either 
Rukh  or  Watkins  until  she  was  well  inside  the  room, 
and  the  ayah  had  reclosed  the  door  she  had  opened, 
and  had  disappeared.  It  was  too  late  to  retreat,  Lu- 
cilla  knew,  so  she  merely  paused,  and  held  her  ground. 
She  again  wore  the  plain  tweed  frock  she  had  worn 
in  the  aeroplane,  the  locket  again  at  her  throat,  as  it 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  229 

had  been  when  she'd  waked,  the  wide  silk  scarf  hang 
ing  carelessly  over  her  shoulders.  Her  face  was  pale, 
but  her  eyes  were  feverishly  bright,  and  she  held  her 
head — she  had  dressed  it  today,  simply — proudly. 

Rukh  heard  the  door  close,  turned,  and  came  to 
her  quickly. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Crespin,"  he  said  cordially,  "I  was  just 
thinking  of  you.  Think  of  angels  and  you  hear  their 
wings.  Won't  you  sit  down?" 

Lucilla  Crespin  ignored  it  all. 

"I  thought  my  husband  was  here,"  she  said  coldly. 

"He's  not  far  off,"  Rukh  replied.  "Just  wait  in 
there  for  a  few  minutes,"  he  told  Watkins,  pointing 
to  the  wireless-room,  "I  may  have  instructions  for 
you." 

Watkins  went  at  once,  unlocking  the  door  of  the 
wireless-room  with  a  key  on  his  own  ring,  and  closed 
it  carefully  behind  him. 

Then  the  Raja  continued. 

"Do,  pray,  sit  down."  She  had  not  moved  since 
she  had  seen  that  Rukh  was  in  the  room  she  had  en 
tered.  "I  want  so  much  to  have  a  chat  with  you," 
he  urged  her.  At  that — it  seemed  to  her  best — she 
sat  down  in  silence,  neither  looking  at  him,  nor  seem 
ing  to  avoid  doing  so.  "I  hope  you  had  everything 
you  required?"  Rukh  persisted,  solicitously,  as  he  re 
seated  himself. 

"Everything,"  she  replied  indifferently. 

"The  ayah?"  he  still  persisted. 

"Was  most  attentive,"  Mrs.  Crespin  said  briefly. 

"And  you  slept — ?" 

"More  or  less,"  she  said  with  light  contempt. 

"More  rather  than  less,  if  one  may  judge  by  your 
looks,"  the  Raja  of  Rukh  told  her  with  something  of 
warmth  and  emphasized  admiration  in  eyes  and  tone. 


230  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Lucilla  Crespin  did  not  trouble  to  meet  his  eyes,  but 
she  heard  the  tone. 

"Does  it  matter?"  she  retorted  scornfully. 

"What  can  matter  more  than  the  looks  of  a  beauti 
ful  woman?"  the  Raja  asked  softly. 

"What's  that?"  she  exclaimed  less  listlessly,  lifting 
her  head  suddenly,  and  listening. 

"The  click  of  billiard  balls,"  Rukh  told  her.  "Your 
husband  and  Dr.  Traherne  are  passing  the  time." 

"If  you'll  excuse  me,"  she  said  ceremoniously,  as 
she  rose,  "I'll  join  them." 

But  the  man  did  not  intend  that.  "Oh,"  he  said 
with  mingled  deference  and  insistence,  "pray  spare 
me  a  few  moments.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  seriously." 

She  threw  him  a  look  then.  There  was  nothing  in 
it  that  he  liked.  But  he  only  smiled  back  at  her  pleas 
antly.  He  could  wait.  The  Raja  of  Rukh  was  skilled 
in  waiting,  as  he  was  at  most  things. 

Mrs.  Crespin  sat  down  listlessly.  "Well — "  she  said 
wearily,  "I  am  listening." 

"You  are  very  curt,  Mrs.  Crespin,"  Rukh  said  plead 
ingly,  leaning  his  arm  on  the  writing-table,  as  he 
seated  himself  at  it  again,  and  leaning  his  chin  on  his 
hand.  "I'm  afraid  you  bear  me  malice — you  hold 
me  responsible  for  the  doubtless  trying  situation  in 
which  you  find  yourself." 

"Who  else  is  responsible?"  she  demanded,  and  her 
voice  was  certainly  curt — as  curt  as  it  was  cold. 

"Who?"  the  Raja  echoed.  "Why  chance,  fate,  the 
gods,  Providence — whoever,  or  whatever,  pulls  the 
strings  of  this  unaccountable  puppet-show.  Did  / 
bring  you  here?  Did  /  conjure  up  the  fog?  Could  / 
have  prevented  your  dropping  from  the  skies?  And 
when  once  you  had  set  foot  in  the  Goddess'  precinct, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  231 

it  was  utterly  out  of  my  power  to  save  you — at  any 
rate  the  men  of  your  party."  The  woman  curdled  at 
the  significance  he  threw  lightly  but  clearly  into  those 
last  words,  but  she  neither  moved  nor  looked;  her 
face  was  mask-like,  expressionless,  and  her  pallor  took 
no  change.  "If  I  raised  a  finger,"  Rukh  went  on 
evenly,  but  saying  it  all  very  earnestly,  "to  thwart  the 
Goddess,  it  would  be  the  end  of  my  rule — perhaps  of 
my  life." 

"You  know  that  is  not  true,"  the  woman  flashed 
out  at  him,  her  very  contempt  firing  her  to  retort — 
which  she  had  meant  not  to  do,  let  him  say  what  he 
might.  "You  could  easily  smuggle  us  away,  and 
then  face  the  people  out.  What  about  your  troops?" 
she  demanded.  She  was  not  pleading — yet. 

"A  handful,  dear  lady — a  toy  army,"  Rukh  mur 
mured  regretfully,  but  vastly  amused  too.  "It  amuses 
me  to  play  at  soldiers.  They  could  do  nothing  against 
priests  and  people,  even  if  they  were  to  be  depended 
upon.  And,"  he  added  emphatically,  "they,  too,  wor 
ship  the  Goddess." 

The  woman  smiled  bitterly.  "What  you  really  mean, 
Raja,"  she  said,  looking  him  full  in  the  eyes,  "is  that 
you  dare  not  risk  it — you  haven't  the  courage." 

"You  take  a  mean  advantage,  Madam,"  the  Raja 
sighed.  "You  abuse  the  privilege  of  your  sex  in 
order  to  taunt  me  with  cowardice." 

"Let  us  say,  then,"  she  replied  bitterly,  "that  you 
haven't  the  will  to  save  us." 

He  leaned  across  the  corner  of  the  writing-table, 
and  with  a  beseeching  gesture,  begged,  "Reflect  one 
moment,  Madam.  Why  should  I  have  the  will,  at  the 
risk  of  all  I  possess,  to  save  Major  Crespin  and  Dr. 
Traherne  ?  Major  Crespin  is  your  husband — does  that 


232  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

recommend  him  to  me?  Forgive  me  if  I  venture  to 
guess  that  it  doesn't  greatly  recommend  him  to  you." 
Lucilla  gave  him  a  haughty,  outraged  stare,  but  he 
continued,  as  if  he  had  not  seen  it.  "He  is  only  too 
typical  a  specimen  of  a  breed  I  detest :  pigheaded,  bull- 
necked,  blustering,  overbearing."  Lucilla  Crespin's 
rings  were  cutting  her  fingers,  but  she  gave  him  no 
sign.  "Dr.  Traherne  is  an  agreeable  man  enough — I 
dare  say  a  man  of  genius." 

"If  you  kill  him,"  Lucilla  interrupted  quickly,  and 
the  Raja  saw  her  bosom  rise  and  fall,  a  faint  color 
tinge  her  cheeks,  a  look  of  life  creep  into  her  face. 
He  had  stirred  her  at  last!  "If  you  cut  short  his 
work — you'll  kill  millions  of  your  own  race,  whom  he 
would  have  saved." 

The  Raja  smiled — a  little  at  her  new  eagerness, 
though  it  stung  him — more  at  what  she  had  said.  "I 
don't  know  that  I  care  very  much  about  the  millions 
you  speak  of,"  he  answered  quietly — more  intent  in 
watching  her,  and  in  trying  to  cut  some  breach  in  her 
seeming  composure,  than  in  the  words  he  used.  "Life 
is  a  weed  that  grows  again  as  fast  as  death  mows  it 
down.  At  all  events,  he  is  an  Englishman,  a  Feringhi 
— and,  may  I  add,  without  indiscretion,  that  the  in 
terest  you  take  in  him — "  the  woman  stiffened,  and 
blanched  again,  and  Rukh  saw  a  vein  swell  and  beat 
in  her  throat — "oh,  the  merest  friendly  interest,  I  am 
sure — does  not  endear  him  to  me.  One  is,  after  all, 
a  man,  and  the  favor  shown  to  another  man  by  a 
beautiful  woman — " 

Without  glancing  at  him,  Mrs.  Crespin  rose  slowly, 
and  moved  calmly  towards  the1  room  where  the  ivory 
balls  still  clicked;  but  there  was  blood  oozed  under 
her  wedding-ring. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  233 

But  the  Raja  rose  swiftly,  and  faced  her,  standing 
between  her  and  it  before  she  reached  the  billiard- 
room  door. 

"Please,  please,  Mrs.  Crespin,"  he  said  entreatingly, 
and  his  eyes  grew  suddenly  soft,  "bear  with  me  if  I 
transgress  your  Western  conventions.  Can  I  help  be 
ing  an  Oriental?"  he  asked  with  a  slight,  proud  smile. 
"Believe  me,  I  mean  no  harm;  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  about —  He  broke  off  lamely,  as  if  not  knowing 
how  to  go  on. 

"Well?"  she  said  imperiously,  after  a  moment,  a 
goad  in  her  quiet  tone,  a  taunt  in  her  stern,  angry  eyes. 

"You  spoke  last  night,"  Rukh  said  very  gently,  "of 
— your  children — " 

She  turned  away  swiftly,  her  self-control  was  wav 
ering  at  last.  He  had  hit  the  woman  below  the  belt! 
The  bad  blow  had  crumpled  her.  She  turned  away, 
and  she  swayed  a  little  as  she  moved. 

"I  think  you  said — a  boy  and  a  girl,"  the  despot 
pushed  his  advantage  home. 

It  was  too  much. 

Every  human  mind,  every  human  pride,  every  hu 
man  courage;  every  human  creature  has  its  breaking 
point.  Some  may  be  spared  ever  reaching  or  knowing 
it.  But  always  it  is  there.  Lucilla  Crespin  had 
reached  hers. 

She  threw  herself  down  on  the  couch  with  a  des 
perate  cry.  "My  babies,  my  babies!"  she  sobbed. 

Rukh  winced.  Give  him  his  due — he  was  hurt  for 
her  grief.  It  did  not  budge  him  from  his  purpose. 
But  for  the  moment,  at  least,  his  vengeance  tasted 
sour  in  his  mouth. 

The  billiard  balls  still  clicked. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

T  TE  let  her  weeping  wear  itself  out. 

At  last  as  it  almost  ceased,  and  the  woman's 
sobs  were  but  panted  breath,  he  went  a  step  nearer, 
and  said  earnestly,  "I  feel  for  you,  Mrs.  Crespin,  I 
do  indeed.  I  would  do  anything — " 

She  swung  round  where  she  sat,  looked  up  at  him, 
saw,  though  her  smarting  eyes  were  half  blind  from 
the  tears  they  had  shed,  the  sincerity  in  his  eyes,  as  she 
had  heard  it  in  his  voice.  "Raja,"  she  cried,  in  a 
tone  she  had  not  used  to  him  before,  "if  I  write  them 
a  letter  of  farewell,  will  you  give  me  your  word  of 
honor  that  it  shall  reach  them?" 

Rukh  bit  his  lip.  His  hands  were  trembling  a  little. 
At  that  moment  he  came  nearer  loving  a  woman,  with 
a  passion  worthy  that  word,  than  he  ever  had  done— 
save  for  the  so  different  love,  the  love  apart,  he  had 
given  his  mother.  He  had  thought  when  she  turned 
to  him  that  she  was  about  to  beg  of  him  her  own 
life,  her  freedom.  And  she  had  not.  She  had  asked 
that  a  letter  from  her  might  go  to  her  children.  He 
had  been  in  England  when  his  mother  had  died.  She 
had  written  him  a  letter  when  she  knew  that  she  was 
about  to  die.  He  had  it  yet.  A  rough  lump  gathered 
in  the  throat  of  Rukh's  Raja — and  because  his  heart 
sickened  at  the  refusal  he  must  make — from  his  point 
of  view  he  must — he  steeled  his  voice,  and  spoke  more 
stiffly  than  he  felt. 

"Ah,  there,  Madam,"  he  said  crisply,  "you  must 
pardon  me!  I  have  already  said  that  the  last  thing 

234 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  235 

I  desire  is  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  Government 
of  India." 

"I  will  say  nothing  to  show  where  I  am,"  she 
pleaded  eagerly,  "or  what  has  happened  to  me.  You 
shall  read  it  yourself." 

At  the  misery  in  her  eyes,  and  the  entreaty,  at  the 
white  loveliness  of  her,  at  the  queenly  quality  of  her, 
at  the  call  of  her  suffering  motherhood,  and  too,  at 
the  call  of  her  nearness,  he  was  so  stirred,  so  almost 
tempted  to  yield,  that  he  answered  her  almost 
roughly. 

"An  ingenious  idea!"  He  said  it  a  little  mockingly. 
"You  would  have  it  come  fluttering  down  out  of  the 
blue  upon  your  children's  heads,  like  a  message  from 
a  Mahatma.  But,  the  strength  of  my  position,  you 
see,  is  that  no  one  will  ever  know  what  has  become 
of  you.  You  will  simply  disappear  in  the  uncharted 
sea  of  the  Himalayas,  as  a  ship  sinks  with  all  hands 
in  the  ocean.  If  I  permitted  any  word  from  you  to 
reach  India,  the  detective  instinct,  so  deeply  implanted 
in  your  race,  would  be  awakened,  and  the  Himalayas 
would  be  combed  out  with  a  fine-tooth  comb.  No, 
Madam,  I  cannot  risk  it." 

"Cannot?"  Lucilla  said  with  cold  scorn;  all  her 
calmness  was  recovered  now,  her  pulsing  emotion  fro 
zen  back  by  Rukh's  hard  refusal.  "Cannot?  You  dare 
not!  But  you  can  and  dare  kill  defenseless  men  and 
women.  Raja,  you  are  a  pitiful  coward!"  Her  cold, 
blue  eyes  scanned  him  tauntingly.  She  expected  him 
to  wince  at  that  taunt.  She  had  made  it  deliberately 
• — playing  the  game  now — as  she  gauged  it.  Appeal  to 
his  chivalry  had  failed,  she  was  appealing  to  his  vanity 
now. 

But  Rukh  laughed  unruffled.     He  read  her.     "For- 


236  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

give  me,"  he  said,  "if  I  smile  at  your  tactics.  You 
want  to  goad  me  to  chivalry.  If  every  man  were  a 
coward  who  took  life  without  risking  his  own,  where 
would  your  British  sportsmen  be?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  woman  retorted  with  a 
sort  of  superb  insolence;  "a  savage  is  not  necessarily 
a  coward."  The  Raja  just  flushed  at  that.  "And 
now,"  she  ended,  rising  again,  "let  me  go  to  my  hus 
band." 

"Not  yet,  Mrs.  Crespin,"  he  stayed  her  again.  "One 
more  word.  You  are  a  brave  woman,  and  I  sincerely 
admire  you." 

"Please — please — "  she  interrupted  him  fiercely, 
hotly  angered  by  the  very  sincerity  that  she  could 
not  doubt. 

"Listen  to  me,"  Rukh  persisted  firmly.  "It  will  be 
worth  your  while.  I  could  not  undertake  to  send  a 
letter  to  your  children — "  her  face  quivered  again,  but 
she  stilled  it,  and  shrugged  her  bitter  contempt — "but 
it  would  be  very  easy  for  me  to  have  them  carried 
off  and  brought  to  you  here." 

She  sprang  round  to  him,  half  stifling  a  cry,  and 
faced  him,  her  own  face  frankly  quivering  now,  the 
veins  in  her  throat  swelling  palpably. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  gasped. 

"I  mean,"  he  told  her  slowly,  saying  it  earnestly, 
"that,  in  less  than  a  month,  you  may  have  your  chil 
dren  in  your  arms,  uninjured,  unsuspecting,  happy — 
if—" 

"If?"  the  woman  whispered  hoarsely,  and  twisting 
the  end  of  her  long  silk  scarf  in  hysterical,  trembling 
fingers. 

"If—  '  Rukh  answered  gently,  watching  her  nar 
rowly — his  eyes  friendly  and  respectful — "oh,  in  your 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  237 

own  time,  of  your  own  free  will — you  will  accept  the 
homage  it  would  be  my  privilege  to  offer  you." 

"That!" 

It  would  have  been  answer  enough  for  most  men, 
it  would  have  chilled  the  purpose  of  many,  the  pur 
pose  and  any  ardor  behind  it,  the  word  as  the  English 
woman  tossed  it  at  him,  with  snaky  venom  in  her 
blazing  blue  eyes.  But  Rukh  went  smoothly  on,  beat 
ing  his  terrible  arguments  in  slowly  and  courteously. 
"You  have  the  courage  to  die,  dear  lady — why  not  have 
the  courage  to  live?" 

She  shuddered.    That  was  her  answer. 

He  waited  a  moment  quietly,  and  then,  "You  be 
lieve,"  he  continued,  "that  to-morrow,  when  the  ordeal 
is  over,  you  will  awaken  in  a  new  life,  and  that  your 
children  will  rejoin  you.  Suppose  it  were  so :  suppose 
that  in  forty — fifty — sixty  years,  they  passed  over  to 
you:  would  they  be  your  children?  Can  God  himself 
give  you  back  their  childhood?  What  I  offer  you," 
he  urged — and  there  was  an  odd  sweetness  in  his 
A'siatic  voice — "is  a  new  life,  not  problematical,  but 
assured;  a  new  life,  without  passing  through  the  shad 
ow  of  death;  a  future  utterly  cut  off  from  the  past, 
except  that  your  children  will  be  with  you,  not  as  vague 
shades,  but  living  and  loving.  They  must  be  quite 
young;  they  would  soon  forget  all  that  had  gone  before. 
They  would  grow  to  manhood  and  womanhood  under 
your  eyes;  and  ultimately,  perhaps,  when  the  whole 
story  was  forgotten,  you  might,  if  you  wished  it,  re 
turn  with  them  to  what  you  call  civilization." 

Degrading,  immoral — what  you  will,  it  had  its 
points,  the  plan  he  unfolded.  And  the  Raja  of  Rukh 
told  it  well.  "And  meanwhile,"  he  pressed  it  on,  "you 
are  only  on  the  threshold  of  the  best  years  of  your 


238  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

life.  You  would  pass  them,  not  as  a  memsahib  in  a 
paltry  Indian  cantonment — I  don't  see  you  there — but 
as  the  absolute  queen  of  an  absolute  king.  I  do  not 
talk  to  you  of  romantic  love.  I  respect  you  too  much 
to  think  you  accessible  to  silly  sentiment.  But  that  is 
just  it :  I  respect  as  much  as  I  admire  you ;  and  I  have 
never  pretended  to  respect  any  other  woman.  There 
fore  I  say  you  should  be  my  first  and  only  queen.  Your 
son,  if  you  gave  me  one,  should  be  the  prince  of 
princes,  my  other  sons  should  all  bow  down  to  him 
and  serve  him.  For,  though  I  hate  the  arrogance  of 
Europe,  I  believe  that  from  a  blending  of  the  flower 
of  the  East  with  the  flower  of  the  West,  the  man  of 
the  future — the  Superman — may  be  born." 

Through  all  this  Lucilla  Crespin  sat  lax  and  motion 
less,  gazing  straight  in  front  of  her,  her  handkerchief 
pressed  to  her  lips.  And  she  gave  no  sign,  none  that 
the  man  could  read,  of  what  mark,  if  any,  his  words 
had  made  on  her  mind. 

Rukh  waited  patiently.  And  at  last  she  spoke  to 
him  in  a  low  toneless  voice — not  turning  her  head,  not 
moving  her  eyes. 

"Is  that  all?    Have  you  quite  done?"  she  asked. 

"I  beg  you  to  answer,"  the  Raja  insisted. 

"I  can't  answer  the  greater  part  of  what  you  have 
been  saying,"  she  asserted  uninterestedly,  "for  I  have 
not  heard  it;  at  least  I  have  not  understood  it.  All  I 
have  heard  is,  'In  less  than  a  month  you  may  have  your 
children  in  your  arms,'  and  then,  'Can  God  Himself 
give  you  back  their  childhood?'  Those  words  have 
kept  hammering  at  my  brain  till" — she  held  out  her 
handkerchief,  there  was  blood  on  it,  and  for  the  first 
time  looked  at  him — "you  see — I  have  bit  my  lip  to 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  239 

keep  from  shrieking  aloud.     I  think  the  Devil  must 
have  put  them  in  your  mouth." 

"Pouf !"  Rukh  laughed  lightly.  "You  don't  believe 
in  those  old  bugbears." 

"Perhaps  not,"  she  admitted  curtly.  "But  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  diabolical  temptation,  and  you  have 
stumbled  upon  the  secret  of  it,"  she  added  desperately. 

"Stumbled!"  the  Raja  protested. 

"Mastered  the  art  of  it,  if  you  like,"  Lucilla  con 
ceded  scornfully,  "but  not  in  your  long  harangue.  All 
I  can  think  of  is,  'Can  God  Himself  give  you  back  their 
childhood?'  and  'In  a  month  you  may  have  them  in 
your  arms.' ' 

"Yes,  yes,"  Rukh  prompted  her  eagerly,  letting  more 
of  the  genuine  if  foul  feeling  that  swayed  him  show  in 
voice  and  face  than  he  yet  had  done,  "think  of  that. 
In  three  or  four  weeks — I'll  not  lose  a  day,  not  an 
hour;  now,  at  once — in  three  or  four  weeks  you  may 
have  your  little  ones — " 

She  shook  off  his  words  as  if  they'd  been  some  un 
clean  smothering  garment,  and  rose  to  her  slender 
height,  interrupting  him  passionately,  "Yes — but  on 
what  conditions?  That  I  should  desert  my  husband 
and  my  friend — should  let  them  go  alone  to  their  death 
— should  cower  in  some  back  room  of  this  murderous 
house  of  yours,  listening  to  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and 
thinking,  'Now — now — the  stroke  is  falling — now — 
now  the  stroke  has  fallen' — stopping  my  ears  so  as  not 
to  hear  the  yells  of  your  bloodthirsty  savages — and 
yet,  perhaps,  hearing  nothing  else  to  my  dying  day. 
No,  Raja!  You  said  something  about  not  passing 
through  the  shadow  of  death;  but  if  I  did  this  I  should 
not  pass  through  it,  but  live  in  it,  and  bring  my  children 


240  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

into  it  as  well.     What  would  be  the  good  of  having 
them  in  my  arms  if  I  could  not  look  them  in  the  face?" 
She  looked  the  Raja  in  the  face. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

MRS.  CRESPIN  looked  Rukh  full  in  the  face,  and 
at  what  he  saw  in  hers  his  eyes  almost  fell.  But 
as  she  passed  to  the  door  of  the  billiard-room  he  chal 
lenged  her,  "That  is  your  answer?" 

"The  only  possible  answer,"  she  returned  quietly, 
and  went  on  into  the  other  room,  and  closed  the  door. 

"But  not  the  last  word,  my  lady !"  Rukh  murmured 
to  himself,  as  he  stood  looking  after  her. 

And  neither  then  nor  after  did  the  Raja  of  Rukh 
purpose  this  woman's  death.  Up  to  the  slaughter  she 
should  go,  square  up  to  the  block  and  the  sword — if 
she  would  not  yield  before  that — but  not  on  to  the 
sword-severed  end.  His  purpose  was  other  than  that. 
And  her  resistance  but  whetted  his  purpose,  steeled  his 
will.  If  she  yielded,  would  he  keep  the  promises  he'd 
made  her  ?  Many  men  will  promise  much  to  gain  their 
end — when  that  end  is  a  woman.  Not  all  men  fulfill 
such  promises. 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  had  made  Mrs.  Crespin  what  he 
considered  a  very  handsome  offer — as  he  saw  it,  a 
tempting  offer.  But  he  had  meant  all  he  had  said,  had 
intended  all  he  had  promised.  He  had  not  forgotten 
La-swak  when  he  had  promised  to  make  another  his 
heir.  But  something  in  this  Western  woman  had  called 
him  irresistibly.  The  light  women  "mostly  from 
Paris"  who  had  been  from  time  to  time  his  "guests" 
scarcely  had  amused  him  for  an  hour,  not  one  of  them 
had  interested  him  for  a  moment.  But  this  woman  of 
breeding  and  of  character  appealed  to  him,  and  af- 

241 


242  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

fected  him  strongly.  To  claim  her  as  his,  fascinated 
him.  To  have  a  woman  companion  and  friend — per 
haps  that  appealed  to  him  most.  He  was  lonely.  And, 
perhaps  unconsciously,  he  was  homesick  sometimes  for 
things  and  conditions  he'd  left  behind  him  in  Europe. 
Interesting  as  it  had  been,  his  stay  at  Cambridge  had 
not  been  all  pleasant.  He  had  been  there,  prince  and 
rich  and  brilliant  though  he  was,  on  tolerance,  and  that 
had  been  torment.  But  often  here  in  his  solitary,  un- 
companioned  state,  the  Raja  of  Rukh  was  more  than 
half  homesick  for  the  old  varsity — its  life,  its  human 
give-and-take,  the  town  at  its  river-ribboned  feet.  For 
all  his  retinue  the  man  was  a  "solitary" ;  he  longed  for 
a  friend.  He  dared  not  leave  Rukh  now.  He  might 
lose  Rukh,  if  he  left  it  for  long  now.  He  had  no  mind 
to  lose  Rukh — it  had  been  his  fathers'  for  too  long,  it 
kept  him  too  richly,  and  he  loved  it  too  well. 

He  prided  himself  that  Europe  had  made  a  super 
ficial  but  accomplished  cosmopolitan  of  him — he  knew 
that  at  core  he  was  all  Oriental  still.  But  he  was  a  little 
wrong  there.  The  West  had  infused  itself  into  him 
more  than  he  dreamed.  Cambridge  had  made  some 
thing  of  a  half-caste  of  the  high-born,  absolute  ruler  of 
Rukh — an  intellectual  half-caste.  He  had  studied  a  few 
Western  masters  profoundly,  he  had  dabbled,  and  he 
still  dabbled,  in  abominably  many.  Your  true  cosmo 
politan  is  born,  not  made.  He  is  very  rare.  Europe 
had  given  Rukh's  Raja  Gogol  and  Herbert  Spencer, 
Byron  and  Aristotle,  Goethe  and  Ben  Jonson  and  Ma- 
caulay,  the  philosophies  of  Greece  and  of  England,  the 
cultures  of  France  and  Spain,  the  flairs  of  Mayfair  and 
Rome,  but  it  had  taken  away  more  than  it  had  given, 
had  cramped  even  more  than  it  had  developed.  It  had 
not  expatriated  him,  but  it  had  made  him  lonely. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  243 

The  European  side,  grafted  on  him,  and  still  grow 
ing  green  and  strong,  the  European  in  him,  craved 
this  exquisite  and  companionable  English  gentlewoman 
even  more,  and  more  insistently  than  the  Asian  did. 
He  would  win  her  in  Eastern  ways,  if  he  must,  but  he 
would  wear  and  keep  her  in  Western  ways,  if  she  liked 
— and  as  far  as  one  might  in  Rukh. 

He  had  come  to  believe  that  the  Superman  of  whom 
the  new  philosophers  prated  almost  as  glibly  as  in 
tricately  and  obscurely,  would  be  generated  from  some 
high  fusion  of  East  and  West — a  flabby,  unwholesome 
belief,  but  he  held  it,  and  since  he  himself  could  not  be 
world-eminent  as  the  first  Superman,  he  was  keenly 
minded  to  beget  him.  But  he  had  not  forgotten  La- 
swak.  La-swak  should  have  a  rich  heritage,  a  gilded 
and  cushioned  life,  his  other  sons  should  be  provided 
for  nobly  and  carefully,  and  his  daughters  should  be 
given  in  marriage,  well-portioned,  of  course.  As  for 
his  native  wives,  his  new  queen  should  do  with  them 
as  she  pleased.  But  La-swak  should  keep  a  princely 
place,  always  the  favorite  son ;  and  Ak-kok  should  keep 
her  place,  her  pleasure  and  her  ease. 

Rukh  admired  the  English  more  than  he  disliked 
them.  And,  too,  in  the  ordinary,  human  way,  to  which 
all  flesh  is  heir  he  had  fallen  in  love — with,  as  it 
chanced,  a  Western  woman. 

Abortive,  fantastic  a  dream  as  ever  opium  gave,  but 
it  brightened  his  eyes,  flushed  his  face,  and  set  all  his 
sensitive  nerves  dancing  to  delicate  music. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  billiard  balls  clicked  again. 
They  had  not  interrupted  their  game  for  her, 
then. 

He  had  sat  down  at  his  writing-table  when  Mrs. 
Crespin  had  left  him,  and  now  he  drew  a  pad  to  him, 
and  picked  up  the  pencil  again.  He  began  to  write; 
he  had  found  the  words  he  wanted. 

"Watkins !"  he  called,  not  loudly. 

"Yessir?"    Watkins  had  come  at  once. 

The  Raja  tore  the  sheet  off  the  pad,  and  handed  it 
to  him. 

The  valet  read  it  aloud  softly.  He  always  read 
aloud  to  his  master  any  message  he  was  to  transmit, 
to  assure  reading  and  sending  it  correctly.  He  read, 
"  'The  lady  has  come  to  terms.  She  will  enter  His 
Highness's  household/  Quite  so,  sir,"  the  man  said. 
"What  suite  will  she  occupy  ?" 

"My  innocent  Watkins !"  Rukh  said  twittingly.  "Do 
you  think  it's  true?  What  have  I  to  do  with  an  un 
approachable  English  woman  ?  It's  only  a  bait  for  the 
Feringhis.  You  shall  send  it  out  in  their  hearing,  and 
if  either  of  them  can  read  the  Morse  code,  the  devil's 
in  it  if  he  doesn't  give  himself  away." 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  Watkins  said,  with  an  apprecia 
tive  grin.  "I  didn't  quite  catch  on." 

"If  they  move  an  eyelash  I'll  take  care  they  never 
see  the  inside  of  this  room  again,"  Rukh  asserted. 
Watkins  made  no  comment ;  he  did  not  doubt  it. 

"Am  I  to  send  this  to  India,  sir?"  he  asked. 
244 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  245 

"To  anywhere  or  nowhere,"  Rukh  told  him  cheer 
fully.  "Reduce  the  current,  so  that  no  one  can  pick  it 
up.  So  long  as  it's  heard  in  this  room,  that's  all  I 
want." 

"But  when  am  I  to  send  it,  sir?"  the  man  inquired 
not  unreasonably. 

"Listen,"  the  Raja  ordered.  "I'll  get  them  in  here 
on  the  pretext  of  a  little  wireless  demonstration,  and 
then  I'll  tell  you  to  send  out  an  order  to  Tashkent  for 
champagne.  That'll  be  your  cue.  Go  ahead — and 
send  slowly." 

"Shall  I  ask  whether  I'm  to  code  it,  sir?"  Watkins 
was  taking  every  precaution  to  do  exactly  as  the  Raja 
wished.  It  always  was  wisest — and  safest  also — to  do 
that.  But  too  the  man  was  entering  into  the  spirit  of 
it  now.  He  liked  his  job. 

"You  may  as  well,"  Rukh  assented.  "It'll  give  ar 
tistic  finish  to  the  thing." 

"Very  good,  Your  'Ighness.  But,"  he  had  more  to 
ask,  more  to  provide  himself  with  precautions  for, 
"afterwards,  if,  as  you  was  saying,  they  was  to  try  to 
corrupt  me,  sir — " 

"Corrupt  you  ?"  The  Raja  held  up  a  hand  in  horror. 
"That  would  be  painting  the  lily  with  a  vengeance." 

Watkins  was  incensed.  Even  a  cockney  blackleg  has 
his  sensitiveness — but  he  did  not  dare  show  it,  and  only 
a  touch  of  annoyance  crept  into  his  voice,  as  he  ques 
tioned  again,  "Suppose  they  tries  to  get  at  me,  sir — 
what  are  your  instructions?" 

"How  do  you  mean?"  The  Raja  understood  per 
fectly  what  Watkins  meant,  but  it  often  pleased  him — 
it  did  now — to  put  the  cockney  to  the  trouble  of  putting 
things  into  words  very  plainly. 

"Shall  I  let  on  to  take  the  bait  ?"  the  valet  explained. 


246  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"You  may  do  exactly  as  you  please,"  the  master  told 
him  indifferently.  "I  have  the  most  implicit  confidence 
in  you,  Watkins." 

"You  are  very  good,  sir,"  Watkins  tried  not  to  say 
it  sulkily. 

The  Raja  smiled.  "I  know  that  anything  they  can 
offer  you  would  have  to  be  paid  either  in  England  or 
in  India,  and  that  you  daren't  show  your  nose  in  either 
country,"  he  remarked  grimly.  "You  have  a  very  com 
fortable  job  here — " 

"My  grateful  thanks  to  you,  sir,"  the  man  said 
humbly. 

"And  you  don't  want  to  give  the  hangman  a  job, 
either  in  Lahore  or  in  London." 

"The  case  in  a  nutshell,  sir,"  Watkins  said  cheer 
fully.  "But  I  thought  if  I  was  to  pretend  to  send  a 
message  for  them,  it  might  keep  them  quiet-like." 

"Very  true,  Watkins,"  the  Raja  approved.  "It 
would  not  only  keep  them  quiet,  but  the  illusion  of 
security  would  raise  their  spirits,  which  would  be  a 
humane  action.  I  am  always  on  the  side  of  humanity." 

"Just  so,  sir,"  the  other  replied  dryly.  "Then  I'll 
humor  them." 

"Yes  if  they  want  to  send  a  message,"  Rukh  agreed. 
"If  they  try  to  'get  at,'  not  only  you,  but  the  instrument, 
call  the  guard,"  he  stipulated,  "and  let  me  know  at 
once." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  Watkins  grinned. 

"Now,"  Rukh  added  briskly,  "open  the  door  and 
standby.  You  have  the  message  ?" 

Watkins  drew  the  slip  of  paper  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  and  began  to  read  it  aloud,  "  'The  lady  has  come 
to  terms.  She' — " 

"Yes,    that's    right,"    Rukh    cut   him    off    sharply. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  247 

"Oh,  look  here,"  he  added,  as  the  man  was  opening 
the  folding  door,  "when  you've  finished,  you'd  better 
lock  the  door  again,  and  say,  'Any  orders,  sir?'  If  I 
say,  'No  orders,  Watkins,'  it'll  mean  I'm  satisfied  they 
don't  understand.  If  I  think  they  do  understand,  I'll 
give  you  what  orders  I  think  necessary." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  the  punctilious  valet  replied,  as 
he  softly  threw  back  the  folding  doors  that  divided 
Rukh's  snuggery  and  the  wireless-room :  a  small,  plain, 
business-like,  office-looking  place — the  operator's  seat 
in  front  of  the  apparatus  of  incredibly  many  instru 
ments — and  that  was  all — except  an  electric  light  in  the 
ceiling,  not  lit  now,  of  course.  Not  a  wire  showed  on 
floor  or  wall — although  all  of  "wireless"  is  done  by 
means  of  wires! 

The  Raja  rose  and  went  to  the  door  of  the  billiard- 
room,  and  when  he  had  opened  it  said,  "Oh,  Major, 
you  were  saying  you  had  no  experience  of  wireless.  If 
you've  finished  your  game,  it  might  amuse  you  to  see  it 
at  work.  Watkins  is  just  going  to  send  out  a  mes 
sage.  Would  Mrs.  Crespin  care  to  come?" 

"Yes,"  Crespin  answered,  coming  into  the  snuggery, 
"why  not?  Will  you  come,  Lucilla?"  he  called  over 
his  shoulder. 

She  and  Traherne  followed  Crespin  in,  not  very 
eagerly — all  three  wearily  polite,  but  scarcely  interested, 
unless  their  faces  and  walk  belied  them.  Rukh  eyed 
them  closely,  with  eyes  so  agile  that  he  managed  to 
watch  all  three  of  them  at  once.  They  had  no  chance 
to  exchange  one  covert  glance,  had  they  cared  to — but 
they  were  playing  their  own  hands  too  carefully  and 
well  for  that — and  they  understood  each  other  too  thor 
oughly  to  need  to  do  so.  They  looked  a  little  bored. 
And  they  looked  shockingly  tired.  The  bright  day  was 


248  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

near  its  high  zenith  now,  and  in  its  searching  light 
they  looked  to  Rukh  to  have  aged  perceptibly  in  the 
short  time  they  had  been  in  the  billiard-room.  He 
didn't  wonder  at  it. 

"This,"  he  told  them,  pointing,  "you  see,  is  the  ap 
paratus.  All  ready,  Watkins  ?  Won't  you  sit  down  ?" 
He  gave  Mrs.  Crespin  a  chair,  and  indicated  others  to 
the  men.  "You  have  the  order  for  Tashkent,  Wat- 
kins?" 

"Yes,  Your  'Ighness,"  the  valet  said,  producing  the 
slip  with  the  fake  message  on  it,  "but  I  haven't  coded 
it." 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  Rukh  ordered  impatiently.  "Send 
it  in  clear.  Even  if  some  outsider  does  pick  it  up,  I 
daresay  we  can  order  three  cases  of  champagne  with 
out  causing  international  complications." 

Watkins  put  on  his  receivers,  and  sat  down  at  the 
wireless  set,  with  its  many  instruments  in  front  of  him, 
tapped  the  key,  made  an  adjustment,  and  sat  "listening 
in" — and  waited. 

"He's  waiting  for  the  reply  signal,"  the  Raja  ex 
plained. 

"Oh!"  Crespin  rejoined  blankly.  "May  I  take  one 
of  your  excellent  cigars,  Raja?"  he  added  with  a  bet 
ter  show  of  interest. 

"By  all  means,"  Rukh  told  him.  He  watched  Cres- 
pin's  face  and  his  hands  as  the  Major  lit  the  cigar.  He 
credited  both  Traherne  and  Mrs.  Crespin  with  enough 
finesse  to  cloak  their  thoughts  and  their  emotions  baf- 
flingly  well,  but  he  made  very  sure  of  trapping  the 
Major's  thoughts  and  emotions  as  they  came.  If 
Major  Crespin  knew  anything  at  all  of  the  wireless, 
Rukh  made  very  sure  that  he  would  betray  it,  "chudc 
•4t"  at  him  almost. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  249 

"I've  got  them,"  Watkins  announced  after  a  suit 
able  pause,  and  proceeded  to  send  his  message,  slowly, 
very  clearly :  "The  lady  has  come  to  terms,"  the  Morse 
code  spelled  very  deliberately.  Dr.  Traherne  and  Mrs. 
Crespin  understood  none  of  it ;  Antony  Crespin  read  it 
as  if  it  had  been  large,  clear  print. 

"May  we  speak?"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  bending  a 
little  towards  Rukh. 

"Oh,  yes,"  the  Raja  laughed;  "you  won't  be  heard 
in  Tashkent." 

"She  will  enter''  the  valet's  fingers,  and  the  disks 
on  the  wireless  keyboard,  spelled  out  carefully. 

Crespin  pulled  his  cigarette  case  out — what  a  stupid- 
looking  face  this  Englishman  had,  the  Raja  thought. 
And  he  understood  nothing  of  what  the  transmitter 
was  saying — that  was  indubitable. 

"His  Highness 's  household." 

Crespin  held  out  the  case  to  the  doctor.  "Have  a 
cigarette,  Traherne?" 

"Thanks."  Traherne  took  one.  Major  Crespin 
struck  a  match — Watkins  was  repeating  the  message 
— Crespin  held  the  match,  saying,  "Let  us  smoke  and 
drink,  for  to-morrow  we — "  and  he  blew  out  the  match, 
for  the  cigarette  drew  now.  And  the  re-transmission 
ended. 

"That's  how  it's  done !"  Rukh  announced. 

"How  many  words  did  he  send  ?"  Traherne  inquired, 
with  a  show  of  interest  that  palpably  was  a  little  forced. 

"What  was  it,  Watkins?"  the  Raja  demanded. 
"  'Forward  by  to-morrow's  caravan  twelve  cases  cham 
pagne.  Usual  brand.  Charge  our  account' — was  that 
it?" 

"That's  right,  sir,"  the  man  answered  as  he  turned 
from  the  apparatus. 


250  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"Twelve  words/'  Rukh  told  Traherne,  checking  his 
count  on  his  fingers. 

"And  can  they  really  make  sense  out  of  those  fire 
works?"  Crespin  demanded  a  little  rudely,  and  almost 
incredulously.  Your  Englishman  always  is  incredu 
lous  of  what  he  does  not  understand. 

"I  hope  so — else  we  shall  run  short  of  champagne," 
the  Raja  said  with  a  laugh. 

Traherne,  blowing  smoke-rings  skilfully,  knew  that 
Rukh  lied.  A  "show"  run  on  such  lines  as  this  was 
would  not  get  within  but  a  few  days'  supply  of  cham 
pagne.  Dr.  Traherne  had  understood  nothing  of  what 
the  keys  had  clicked  out,  but  he  was  sure  that  it  was 
something  very  different  from  what  the  Raja  had 
translated — if  it  had  been  anything  at  all,  or  had  gone 
anywhere.  Dr.  Traherne  understood  Rukh  better  than 
Rukh  understood  Crespin. 

Watkins  came  into  the  snuggery,  locked  the  folding 
door  carefully,  tried  it,  pocketed  his  key-ring,  and 
turned  to  his  master.  "Any  orders,  Your  'Ighness?" 
he  asked. 

"No  orders,  Watkins,"  the  Raja  told  him  lazily. 

Major  Antony  Crespin  had  scored  a  point. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

AS  Watkins  reached  the  door  that  led  into  the  cor 
ridor,  one  of  the  Raja's  soldiers  met  him,  and 
spoke  to  him.    Watkins  nodded,  and  turned  back. 

"The  Tgh  Priest  is  waiting  to  see  Your  'Ighness," 
he  announced. 

"Oh,"  Rukh  said  in  surprise,  hesitated  a  minute, 
then  added,  "Oh,  well,  show  him  in." 

Watkins  passed  into  the  corridor  and  came  back 
almost  at  once,  ushering  in  an  ornate,  sinister-faced 
figure.  He  must  have  been  wearing  not  less  than 
half  a  dozen  coats  or  gowns,  furred,  beaded  and  em 
broidered.  Some  looked  fairly  new,  several  were 
faded,  one  was  frankly  patched.  His  hands  were  not 
over-clean,  but  they  wore  many  rings.  And  he  wore 
ear-rings,  great  hoops  of  gold  with  many  small  jewels 
hanging  from  them.  His  features  were  at  once  heavy 
and  sharp,  and  his  shrewd-looking,  not  unhandsome 
eyes  held  the  uncanny  smoldering  fire  of  the  true 
fanatic's.  His  lips  were  fat  and  violently  red,  his 
cheeks  were  high,  his  nose  was  beaked,  and  his  eye 
brows  were  heavily  stained  with  henna. 

The  Raja  greeted  the  decorative,  if  not  to  English 
eyes  attractive,  prelate  briefly,  but  ceremoniously,  and 
as  Watkins  disappeared,  turned  to  his  prisoners. 

"I  mentioned  my  Archbishop  of  York,"  he  reminded 
them  with  a  slight  grimace.  "This  is  he.  Allow  me  to 
introduce  you.  Your  Grace,"  he  said  in  his  best  May- 
fair  manner — His  Grace  scowled  hideously,  "Mrs. 
Crespin — Major  Crespin — Dr.  Traherne." 

251 


252  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  Priest  appeared  to  understand  the  situation,  for 
he  paid  the  introduction  the  acknowledgment  of  a  more 
than  half  contemptuous  salaam.  To  be  fair  to  him, 
Traherne  and  the  Crespins  acknowledged  it  in  a  man 
ner  scarcely  more  polished.  Mrs.  Crespin  and  the  phy 
sician  stared  not  admiringly,  and  Major  Crespin  irrev 
erently  muttered,  "Well,  I'm  blowed!" 

"The  Archbishop's  manners  are  not  good,"  the  Raja 
said  with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "but  a  holy  man — a  very 
saintly,  spiritual  man,  believe  me.  You  will  excuse 
him.  He  regards  you,  I  regret  to  say,  as  unclean  crea 
tures,  whose  very  presence  means  pollution.  He  would 
be  a  mine  of  information  for  an  anthropologist,"  he 
added  with  a  laugh. 

None  of  them  made  any  reply. 

Rukh  turned  to  the  scowling  saint,  and  they  ex 
changed  a  few  words.  Rukh  turned  again  to  the  three. 
"His  Grace  reminds  me,"  he  told  them  suavely,  "of 
some  arrangements  for  to-morrow's  ceremony  which, 
as  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  I  must  attend  to  in  per 
son.  You  will  excuse  me  for  half  an  hour?  Pray 
make  yourselves  at  home.  Tiffin  at  half-past  twelve," 
he  added  hospitably.  Then  he  spoke  again  to  the 
Priest,  speaking  rather  peremptorily.  The  Priest  re 
plied  with  what  may  have  been  scholarly  Rukh,  but 
sounded  a  bitter  growl.  The  Raja  turned  to  Lucilla 
again,  with  a  laughing,  apologetic  face.  "His  grace 
says  au  revoir"  he  told  them,  "and  so  do  I."  He 
nodded  to  the  two  Englishmen,  bowed  gravely  to  Mrs. 
Crespin,  and  passed  into  the  corridor,  the  Priest  stalk 
ing  behind  him. 

As  the  door  closed,  Crespin  pulled  his  handkerchief 
from  his  cuff,  and  mopped  his  forehead — and  he 
turned  an  eager,  troubled  look  to  the  decanters.  But 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  253 

when  his  wife  and  Traherne  were  just  about  to  speak, 
he  motioned  them  imperatively  to  be  cautious.  Then 
he  stole  noiselessly  to  the  billiard-room,  went  in  and 
searched  it.  Convinced  that  no  eavesdropper  was  hid 
den  there,  he  came  back  into  the  snuggery,  and  closed 
the  billiard-room  door. 

The  others  had  taken  their  cue  from  him.  Lucilla 
was  examining  the  narrow  balcony  outside  the  window, 
Traherne  had  crept  up  to  the  door  of  the  wireless  room, 
and  was  testing  noiselessly  its  fastening. 

"What  was  the  message?"  Traherne  asked  as  they 
drew  together  near  the  window — it  was  farthest  from 
possible  listeners. 

Antony  Crespin  smiled.  "It  said,"  he  answered, 
"that  the  lady  had  accepted  her  life — on  his  condi 
tions." 

"Oh!    A  trap  for  us!"  was  Traherne's  comment. 

"Yes,"  Crespin  agreed.  "A  put-up  job.  And  a 
clumsy  one." 

"You  gave  no  sign,  Antony."  Lucilla  laid  her  hand 
on  her  husband's  arm  as  she  spoke,  more  liking  and 
respect  in  voice  and  eyes  than  she  had  given  him  for 
years,  and  his  fingers  closed  over  hers  gratefully.  "I 
think,"  she  said,  "he  must  have  been  reassured." 

"Evidently,"  Traherne  said,  "or  he  wouldn't  have 
left  us  here." 

"What  to  do  now?"  Crespin  asked  briskly — in  the 
tone  of  one  who  knew  there  was  not  much  time  to  lose. 
He  spoke  to  Traherne,  but  he  kept  his  hand  on  his 
wife's,  holding  her  hand  close  on  his  arm — and  she  let 
it  stay. 

"Can  we  break  open  the  door?"  Traherne  an 
swered. 

"No  good,"  Crespin  told  him.     "It  would  make  a 


254  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

noise.  We'd  be  interrupted,  and  then  it  would  be  all 
up." 

Traherne  nodded  gloomily.  "Well,  then,"  he  sug 
gested  desperately,  "the  next  step  is  to  try  to  bribe 
Watkins." 

"Bribe  your  dead  grandmother's  parrot!"  Crespin 
jibed. 

And,  "I  don't  believe  it's  a  bit  of  good,"  Lucilla  ob 
jected. 

"Nor  I,"  Traherne  owned.  "The  fellow's  a  thor 
ough-paced  scoundrel.  But  we  might  succeed,  and,  if 
we  don't  even  try,  they'll  suspect  that  we're  plotting 
something  else.  If  we  can  convince  them  that  we're  at 
our  wits'  end,  we've  the  better  chance  of  taking  them 
off  their  guard." 

"Yes,"  Lucilla  urged  quickly.  "You  see  that, 
Antony." 

He  patted  her  hand.  "Perhaps  you're  right,"  he  told 
Traherne.  "But,  even  if  the  damned  scoundrel  can  be 
bought,  what  good  is  it,  if  I  can't  remember  the  wave 
length  to  Amil-Serai  ?"  He  threw  his  wife's  hand  off 
unconsciously  as  he  felt  again  for  his  handkerchief, 
and  mopped  at  his  troubled  face.  But  Lucilla  laid  her 
hand  again  on  his  arm. 

"You'll  think  of  it  all  of  a  sudden,"  she  told  him. 

"Not  if  I  keep  racking  my  brains  for  it,"  he  groaned. 
"If  I  could  get  my  mind  off  it,  the  damned  thing  might 
come  back  to  me." 

"Yes,"  Traherne  agreed,  "and  that's  all  the  more 
reason  for  action.  But  first,  we  must  settle  what  mes 
sage  to  send,  if  we  get  the  chance." 

"Yes — oh — yes,"  Mrs.  Crespin  said  breathlessly,  and 
she  went  hurriedly  to  the  writing-table,  and  flung  her 
self  into  Rukh's  writing-chair.  "Dictate !"  she  ordered. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  255 

"I'll  write."  She  snatched  an  envelope,  her  fingers  flew 
to  a  pen.  Crespin  bent  over  her  shoulder,  and  pulled 
the  ink  nearer  her  hand. 

"What  about  this?"  Traherne  suggested,  after  a  mo 
ment:  "'Major  Crespin,  wife,  Traherne,  imprisoned 
Rukh,  Raja's  palace;  lives  in  danger,'"  he  dictated 
slowly,  while  Mrs.  Crespin,  writing  it  down  feverishly, 
waited  impatiently  after  each  word  for  the  next. 

"We  want  something  more  definite,"  Crespin  ob 
jected,  when  Traherne  had  finished. 

Traherne  considered.  "Yes,"  he  said  thoughtfully, 
"you're  right.  We  do." 

"How  would  this  do?"  Mrs.  Crespin  asked,  picking 
up  her  pen  again :  "  'Death  threatened  to-morrow  eve 
ning.  Rescue  urgent.' ' 

"Excellent !"  Dr.  Traherne  exclaimed. 

She  wrote  again,  and  when  she  held  the  envelope  up 
to  him,  Crespin  took  it,  and  read  aloud  slowly,  "  'Major 
Crespin,  wife,  Traherne,  imprisoned,  Rukh,  Raja's 
palace.  Death  threatened  to-morrow  evening.  Rescue 
urgent.'  Right.  I'll  keep  it  ready,"  he  said  as  he  care 
fully  pocketed  it. 

"Now,"  Traherne  demanded,  "how  to  get  hold  of 
Watkins?" 

Lucilla  still  sat  in  the  swivel-chair — leaning  back  in 
it  wearily,  her  eyes  half  closed,  when  she  had  finished 
writing.  She  roused  herself  now,  and  glanced  about. 
"There's  a  bell  here,"  she  said  suddenly,  seeing  it  on 
the  writing  table.  "Shall  I  try  it?"  and  she  put  her 
hand  over  it. 

But  Traherne  stopped  her.  "Hold  on  a  moment," 
he  said  quickly.  "We  have  to  decide  what  to  do,  if 
he  won't  take  money,  and  we  have  to  use  force  in  order 
to  get  his  keys." 


256  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"By  Jove,  yes !"  Crespin  agreed.  "And  there's  noth 
ing  here  to  knock  him  on  the  head  with,"  he  added  dis 
gustedly,  as  he  looked  eagerly  about  the  room;  "not 
even  a  chair  you  can  lift — " 

"Not  a  curtain  cord  to  truss  him  up  with — "  Tra- 
herne  added  desperately,  too  searching  the  room. 

"The  first  thing  would  be  to  gag  him,  wouldn't  it?".. 
Lucilla  asked,  rising.  "Would  this  do  for  that  ?"  She 
pulled  the  long,  heavy  silk  scarf  from  her  shoulders, 
and  held  it  out. 

"Capital!"  Traherne  said,  taking  it  and  trying  its 
strength.  "Capital."  He  tied  a  knot  in  it  strongly, 
tested  it  again,  and  carried  it  to  the  couch,  and  laid  it 
on  the  end  near  the  wireless-room  door.  "See?"  he 
asked. 

Both  nodded. 

"What  about  a  billiard  cue?"  Crespin  suggested 
next. 

But  Dr.  Traherne  shook  his  head.  "If  he  saw  it 
about,  he'd  smell  a  rat,"  he  objected. 

"Then,"  Major  Crespin  muttered  grimly,  "there's 
only  one  thing — " 

"What?"  Traherne  asked  him. 

Major  Crespin  pointed  to  the  balcony  outside  the 
wide  open  window.  Lucilla  was  standing  near  it. 

"Oh !"  she  choked,  and  shrank  away  from  the  open 
window,  trembling  violently. 

"I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  helped,"  Traherne  told  her, 
saying  it  not  too  regretfully,  perhaps.  And  he  added 
approvingly,  "There's  a  drop  of  a  good  hundred  feet." 

"None  too  much  for  him,"  Crespin  snapped  between 
his  teeth. 

"When  he  locked  that  door,"  Traherne  reminded 
him,  "he  put  the  key  in  his  trousers  pocket.  We  must 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  257 

remember  to  get  it  before — "  He  broke  off,  because  a 
woman  was  listening,  but  his  eyes  spoke — they  spoke 
short  shrift  for  Watkins,  the  valet. 

"But,"  Mrs.  Crespin  broke  in,  "if  you  kill  him,  and 
still  don't  remember  the  call,  we  shall  be  no  better  off 
than  we  are  now." 

"We  shall  be  no  worse  off,"  Traherne  said  grimly. 

"Better,  by  Jove!"  Crespin  exclaimed.  "For,  if  I 
can  get  three  minutes  at  that  instrument,  the  Raja 
can't  tell  whether  we  have  communicated  or  not."  He 
ended  with  a  short  exultant  laugh,  and  strode  to  the 
revolving  book-shelves  where  the  glassful  of  liquor  he'd 
poured  out  still  stood.  He  took  it  up,  with  a  sort  of 
animal  sob. 

"Oh,  Antony !"  Lucilla  cried. 

Traherne  held  out  a  hand  to  beg  her  silence.  The 
physician  knew. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Lu,"  Crespin  said  roughly. 

"The  soda's  all  flat,"  she  said  weakly. 

"The  soda  be  damned!"  Antony  Crespin  swore. 
"It's  not  the  soda  I  want.  And  I  put  damned  little 
soda  in  it." 

"Antony !"  she  sobbed. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Lu,"  he  repeated  contemptuously, 
and  gulped  down  the  drink,  and  refilled  the  glass  with 
raw  whiskey  right  up  to  the  brim.  "It's  because  I  am 
so  unnaturally  sober  that  my  brain  won't  work !"  He 
drank  down  the  raw  whiskey.  "God !"  he  cried,  as  he 
set  the  glass  down.  "Now  ring  that  bell!"  he  com 
manded.  Alcohol  was  doing  its  medicinal  work — this 
once  at  least.  Antony  Crespin  was  his  own  man  again. 
Valor  raced  through  his  veins.  Resource  tingled  in 
nerves  and  brain.  His  eyes  glittered  red.  Command 
rang  in  his  voice.  "Ring  that  bell,  I  say." 


258  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

His  wife  moved  to  the  table,  and  obeyed  him. 

Dr.  Traherne  stood  silent,  looking  on  approvingly, 
admiringly  too — at  Crespin.  And  also  he  was  diag 
nosing — the  friend  lost  in  the  physician.  Crespin  had 
been  wise  in  his  cups  for  once,  he  thought. 

"You  do  the  talking,  Traherne,"  Major  Crespin  com 
manded  when  his  wife  had  rung.  "That  fellow's 
damned  insolence  gets  on  my  nerves." 

"All  right,"  Traherne  replied  quietly,  taking  the 
chair  by  the  writing-table  that  Mrs.  Crespin  had  left. 

Lucilla  turned  away  and  leaned  her  head  on  the 
mantel  wearily. 

"Look  out — "  Crespin  warned  them,  and  strolled 
towards  the  window — a  red  gleam  in  his  eyes,  as  Wat- 
kins  came  in. 

"You  rang,  sir?"  Watkins  said  impartially  to  the 
two  men ;  standing  at  the  door. 

"Yes,  Watkins,"  Dr.  Traherne  answered  him;  "we 
want  a  few  words  with  you.  Do  you  mind  coming 
over  here  ?  We  don't  want  to  speak  loud." 

"There's  no  one  but  us  understands  English,  sir," 
the  valet  reminded  him. 

"Please  oblige  me,  all  the  same,"  Traherne  insisted. 

The  man  did  as  he  was  asked.  "Now,  sir!"  he  said, 
almost  standing  at  attention  at  the  writing-table.  And 
Crespin  saw  it,  and  smiled. 

"I  dare  say  you  can  guess  what  we  want  with  you," 
Traherne  began. 

"I'm  no  'and  at  guessin',  sir,"  Watkins  said  densely. 
"I'd  rather  you'd  put  it  plain." 

"Well,"  the  doctor  rejoined,  "you  know  we've  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  bloodthirsty  savages?  You  know 
what  is  proposed  for  to-morrow  ?" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  259 

"I've  'card  as  your  numbers  is  up,"  the  cockney  said 
with  insolent  suavity. 

"You  surely  don't  intend  to  stand  by  and  see  us 
murdered?"  Traherne  looked  at  him  hard  as  he  spoke. 
"Three  of  your  own  people,  and  one  of  them  a  lady?" 

"My  own  people,  is  it?"  Watkins  said  with  a  mean, 
sleek  smile.  "And  a  lady — !" 

But  Dr.  Traherne  kept  his  temper.  "A  woman  then, 
Watkins,"  he  amended  quietly. 

"What  has  my  own  people  ever  done  for  me?"  the 
valet  sneered.  "Or  women  either — that  I  should  lose 
a  cushy  job,  and  risk  my  neck  for  the  sake  of  the  three 
of  you?  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  all  of  your  bloomin'  Eng 
land,  I  tell  you  straight." 

"It's  no  good,  Traherne,"  Major  Crespin  warned 
from  the  window.  "Come  down  to  tin  tacks." 

"Only  a  sighting  shot,  Major,"  Traherne  explained. 
"It  was  just  possible  we  might  have  misread  our  man." 

"You  did,"  Watkins  broke  in  passionately,  "if  you 
took  'im  for  a  V.C.  'ero  wot  'ud  lay  down  his  life  for 
England,  'ome  and  beauty.  The  first  thing  England 
ever  done  for  me  was  to  'ave  me  sent  to  a  reformatory 
for  pinching  a  silver  rattle  off  a  young  h'aristocrat  in  a 
p'rambulator.  That,  and  the  likes  of  that,  is  wot  I've 
got  to  thank  England  for.  And  why  did  I  do  it? 
Because  my  mother  would  have  bashed  my  face  in,  if 
I'd  have  come  back  empty-handed.  That's  wot  'ome 
and  beauty  has  meant  for  me.  W'y  should  I  care  more 
for  a  woman  being  scragged  than  what  I  do  for  a 
man?"  Foul  words,  foully  spoken,  but  the  passion 
that  hissed  through  them  was  real,  and  so  was  the  sense 
of  outrage.  Watkins  had  his  reasons.  Most  of  us 
have. 


260  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"Ah,  yes,  I  quite  see  your  point  of  view."  Dr.  Tra- 
herne  dismissed  it  with  that.  "But  the  question  now  is : 
What'll  you  take  to  get  us  out  of  this  ?" 

Watkins  sniggered  offensively.  Men  have  been  killed 
for  less.  "Get  you  out  of  this!"  he  laughed  truculently. 
"If  you  was  to  offer  me  millions,  'ow  could  I  do  that?" 

Traherne  told  him.  "By  going  into  that  room  and 
sending  this  message  through  to  the  Amil-Serai  aero 
drome,"  he  snapped.  And  Major  Crespin  crossed  the 
room,  and  held  out  the  message. 

Watkins  took  it  gingerly,  read  it  through  with  slow 
ferret  eyes,  but  an  expressionless  face,  and  laid  it  down 
deliberately  on  the  writing-table.  "So  that's  the  game, 
is  it?"  he  commented  with  a  shrug. 

"That,  as  you  say,  is  the  game,"  Traherne  told  him 
tersely. 

"You  know  what  you're  riskin'?"  Watkins  asked 
significantly. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Traherne  demanded. 

"W'y,"  Watkins  replied,  "if  the  Guv-nor  suspected 
as  you'd  got  a  word  through  to  India,  ten  to  one  he'd 
wipe  you  off  the  slate  like  that" — he  snapped  his  loose 
fingers  impertinently  near  Dr.  Traherne's  face — "like 
that  without  waiting  for  to-morrow." 

"That  makes  no  difference,"  Major  Crespin  said 
firmly.  "We've  got  to  face  it." 

"Come  now!"  Traherne  argued.  "On  your  own 
showing,  Mr.  Watkins,  loyalty  to  your  master  oughtn't 
to  stand  in  your  way.  I  don't  suppose  gratitude  is  one 
of  your  weaknesses." 

"Gratitude !  To  'im  ?"  the  man  cried  hotly.  "What 
for?  I'm  not  badly  off  here,  to  be  sure,  but  it's  nothing 
to  wot  I  does  for  'im;  and  I  'ate  'im  for  'is  funny  little 
ways.  D'you  think  I  don't  see  that  he's  always  pulling 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  261 

my  leg?"  There  was  something  human  in  Watkins, 
after  all — and  something  English  left  in  him  too. 

"Well,  then,"  Traherne  said  quickly,  "you  won't 
mind  selling  him.  We've  only  to  settle  the  price." 

"That's  all  very  fine,  sir,"  the  valet  said  with  an  un 
pleasant  grin,  "but  what  price  'ave  you  gents  to  offer?" 

"Nothing  down,"  Traherne  admitted,  "no  spot  cash 
— that's  clear.  You'll  have  to  take  our  word  for  what 
ever  bargain  we  come  to." 

"Your  word!"  Watkins  flouted  him.  "How  do  I 
know—?" 

"Oh,  our  written  word,"  Traherne  said,  quite  unruf 
fled.  "We'll  give  it  to  you  in  writing." 

Watkins  made  no  reply.  He  was  thinking  it  out — 
and  he  took  his  time.  He  had  plenty  of  time.  He  knit 
his  brows,  and  twisted  his  fingers. 

For  them — their  yet  lease  of  life  to  be  counted,  per 
haps,  in  hours,  and  sick  heart-beats  now — waiting  to 
know  if  he'd  take  their  bait — the  tension  was  almost 
too  much.  The  woman  lifted  her  head  from  the  man 
tel,  turned  with  her  back  to  the  fireplace,  and  with  her 
hands  nervously  clasped,  stood  watching  and  listening. 
Her  face  was  gray.  Crespin  crossed  to  beside  her,  and 
though  she  gave  no  sign,  she  was  glad  that  he  had. 
Dr.  Traherne  stood  alert  and  outwardly  patient.  But 
he  knew  that  his  nerves  were  cracking,  and  his  collar 
was  cutting  his  neck.  Crespin's  eyes  were  glazed  with 
fear  now,  Traherne's  pinched  and  sharpened  with  it — 
but  their  fear  was  for  the  woman. 

At  last  Watkins  spoke.  "If  I  was  to  'efp  you  out," 
he  said  very  slowly,  "there  must  be  no  more  fairy-tales 
about  any  of  you  'avin'  seen  me  in  India."  He  shuf 
fled  one  foot  as  he  said  it,  and  a  dull  red  light  came  in 
his  shifty  eyes. 


262  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"All  right,"  Dr.  Traherne  said  promptly.  "We  ac 
cept  your  assurance  that  you  never  were  there." 

But  apparently  Watkins  was  not  satisfied  yet,  not 
ready  to  talk  money  terms.  He  wanted  more  first.  If 
Watkins  was  playing  a  deep  game  with  them,  he  was 
playing  it  skilfully,  and  scientifically  too,  the  physician 
thought,  as  the  valet  continued : 

"And  see  here,  Dr.  Traherne — you  know  very  well  I 
couldn't  stay  here  after  I'd  helped  you  to  escape — least 
ways,  if  I  stayed,  it'd  be  in  my  grave.  You'll  'ave  to 
take  me  with  you — and  for  that  I  can  only  have  your 
word.  Supposing  you  could  get  the  message  through, 
and  the  English  was  to  come,  no  writing  could  bind 
you,  if  you  chose  to  leave  me  in  the  lurch." 

"Quite  true."  Traherne  had  to  admit  it.  "I'm 
afraid  you'll  have  to  trust  us  for  that.  But  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honor  that  we  would  be  as  careful  of  your 
safety  as  if  you  were  one  of  ourselves — " 

"Quite  a  'appy  family,"  the  man  murmured  inso 
lently.  But  Traherne — he  had  himself  well  in  hand, 
though  it  was  costing  him  much — took  no  notice.  "I 
suppose  you  know,"  he  concluded  gravely,  "that, 
strange  as  you  may  think  it,  there  are  people  in  the 
world  that  would  rather  die  than  break  a  solemn 
promise." 

"Even  to  a  hound  like  you,  Watkins,"  Major  Crespin 
added.  Crespin's  patience  was  tattered — his  fingers 
itched. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

IT  was  unwisely  said.  Traherne  signaled  an  "Easy- 
all"  with  his  eyes  and  brows,  Lucilla  laid  her  hand 
on  Crespin's. 

Watkins  flung  round  on  him  viciously.  "I  advise 
you  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  yer  'ead,  Major,"  he 
snarled  roughly.  "Don't  forget  that  I  'ave  you  in  the 
'ollow  of  my  'and." 

"True,  Watkins,"  Traherne  said  quickly,  "and  the 
hollow  of  your  hand  is  a  very  disagreeable  place  to  be 
in."  He  said  it  flatteringly — and  Watkins  took  it  so, 
and  grinned  again.  "That's  why  we're  willing  to  pay 
well  to  get  out  of  it.  Come,  now,  what  shall  we  say?" 

"Well,  what  about  a  little  first  instalment?"  the 
cockney  insinuated  oilily.  "You  ain't  quite  on  your 
uppers,  are  you,  now?  You  could  come  down  with 
something,  be  it  ever  so  humble?" 

Dr.  Traherne  pulled  out  his  pocketbook  instantly, 
and  counted  his  notes.  "I  have  three  hundred  rupees 
and  five  ten-pound  notes,"  he  said,  laying  them  on  the 
table. 

Watkins  sniffed.    Then  he  turned  to  Crespin. 

"And  you,  Major?"  he  demanded,  brusquely. 

Crespin  already  had  counted  his  store.  This  was  no 
time  to  haggle.  He  indulged  his  right  leg,  and  himself, 
in  a  slight  kicking  motion,  and  then  went  to  the  table, 
and  tossed  his  money  down  with  Traherne's.  "Two 
hundred  and  fifty  rupees,"  he  said;  "oh,  and  some 
loose  change." 

"Oh,  never  mind  the  chicken- f eed !"  Watkins  said 
263 


264  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

grandly.  "And  the  lady?"  he  turned  and  eyed  her  as 
he  spoke. 

"I  gave  my  last  rupee  to  your  wife,  Watkins,"  Mrs. 
Crespin  replied. 

Watkins  nodded  condescendingly.  "Well,"  he  said 
consideringly,  "that's  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  to 
go  on  with." 

"There,"  Traherne  told  him,  placing  a  hand  on  the 
heap  of  notes,  "that's  your  first  instalment."  Watkins 
eyed  it  haughtily.  "Now,  what  about  the  balance? 
Shall  we  say  a  thousand  pounds  apiece?" 

"A  thousand  apiece !"  Watkins  cried.  "Three  thou 
sand  pounds!  You're  joking,  Dr.  Traherne!  Wot 
would  three  thousand  pounds  be  to  me  in  England! 
W'y,  I'd  'ave  to  take  to  valeting  again.  No,  no,  sir! 
If  I'm  to  do  this  job,  I  must  'ave  enough  to  make  a 
gentleman  of  me."  He  said  it  perfectly  gravely.  He 
meant  it. 

They  stared  at  him  in  blank  amazement.  Then,  al 
most  in  unison  they  broke  into  irrepressible  laughter. 
In  peril  of  their  lives,  on  terrible  tenterhooks  of  sicken 
ing  suspense,  they  laughed  wildly — a  hysterical  outlet 
for  pent-up  emotions  very  different,  it  was  in  part,  but 
too  it  was  pure  appreciation  of  the  funniest  thing  they 
ever  had  heard.  Antony  Crespin  shook  with  laughter, 
and  swayed  from  side  to  side.  Traherne  tittered.  The 
quick  note  of  Lucilla's  mirth  rang  through  the  room 
like  a  delicate,  musical  bell. 

Watkins  was  greatly  offended — but  too  he  was  a  lit 
tle  puzzled.  "Well,"  he  said  with  a  contemptuous 
scowl — no  use  showing  too  much  "huff,"  he  reflected, 
for  he  intended  to  pocket  that  three  hundred  and 
twenty,  and  Crespin  and  Traherne  were  against  him 
two  to  one — "you  are  the  queerest  lot  as  ever  I  come 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  265 

across.  Your  lives  is  'anging  by  a  'air,  and  yet  you 
can  larf !" 

"It's  your  own  fault,  Watkins,"  Lucilla  Crespin 
gurgled,  completely  hysterical  now.  "Why  will  you  be 
so  funny?"  A  screaming  note  sharpened  her  laugh, 
and  she  broke  into  tears,  and  huddling  down  on  the 
couch  she  buried  her  face  on  it,  her  body  shaken  with 
sobs. 

Traherne  got  back  to  business.  They  were  wasting 
too  much  time,  he  told  himself  sternly. 

"I'm  afraid  what  you  ask  is  beyond  our  means,  Wat- 
kins,"  he  said — careful  not  to  say  it  too  significantly — 
"But  I  double  my  bid — two  thousand  apiece." 

"You'll  'ave  to  double  it  again,  sir,  and  a  little  more," 
Watkins  said  smugly.  "You  write  me  out  an  I.O.U. 
for  fifteen  thousand  pounds,  and  I'll  see  wot  can  be 
done." 

"Well,"  Crespin  blurted  angrily,  "you  are  the 
most  consummate — " 

Watkins  interrupted  him  insolently.  "If  your  lives 
ain't  worth  five  thousand  apiece  to  you,"  he  said  con 
temptuously,  "there's  nothing  doing.  For  my  place 
here  is  worth  fifteen  thousand  to  me.  And  there's  all 
the  risk  too — I'm  not  charging  you  nothing  for  that." 

"We  appreciate  your  generosity,  Watkins,"  Dr.  Tra 
herne  stated.  "Fifteen  thousand  be  it!"  The  suspense 
must  be  cut !  Time  pressed  hideously.  Human  nerves 
knew  a  limit.  And  after  all — 

"Now  you're  talking,"  Watkins  remarked  patroniz 
ingly. 

With  no  more  waste  of  words  or  of  look,  Basil  Tra 
herne  bent  over  the  table,  and  wrote  and  signed.  He 
handed  the  I.O.U.  to  Watkins.  Watkins  scrutinized  it, 
and  threw  it  down  on  the  writing-table.  "That's  right, 


266  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

sir,"  he  said  briskly,  "but  the  Major  must  sign  it  too." 

Antony  Crespin  said  something  brief  but  terrible 
under  his  breath  as  he  went  to  the  writing  table.  But 
he  signed  it  at  once,  not  troubling  to  read,  and  threw 
down  the  pen.  "There  you  are,  damn  you!"  he  told 
Watkins  with  a  jerk  of  his  head. 

Watkins  bowed. 

"Now,"  Traherne  insisted,  "get  to  work  quick,  and 
call  up  Amil-Serai — " 

"Right  you  are,  sir,"  the  man  replied  nonchalantly, 
and  when  he  had  pocketed  the  I.O.U.  he  strolled  over 
to  the  wireless-room  and  began  in  a  leisurely  way  to 
unlock  the  door. 

"Isn't  there  some  special  call  you  must  send  out  to 
get  Amil-Serai  ?"  Crespin  asked  him. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,  I  know  it,"  Watkins  said — his  tone 
was  respectful  enough,  his  smile  was  not.  He  threw 
the  folding-doors  quite  open,  maddeningly  deliberate 
in  all  he  did,  went  in  and  took  his  seat  at  the  wireless 
instrument,  picked  up  the  "receivers,"  put  it  on  his 
head,  adjusted  it,  and  began  to  tap-tap  the  wireless 
keys. 

Crespin  whispered  to  Dr.  Traherne  sharply :  "That's 
not  a  service  call !" 

But  neither  of  them  had  at  all  confidently  expected 
it  would  be,  and  Traherne  merely  nodded  grimly. 

There  was  a  pause.  The  room  ached  with  the  si 
lence — it  was  so  intense — the  three  waiting  there  so 
wrought,  so  desperate,  determined. 

Watkins,  in  the  wireless  room,  sat  "listening  in,"  his 
cat-like  head  bent  over  the  instruments,  his  face  smooth 
and  blank. 

"Right!"  he  said  suddenly.  "Got  them,  sir.  Now 
the  message." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  267 

He  began  to  work  the  key,  and  as  it  fell  at  his  fingers' 
tips,  Crespin  spelt  out  to  Traherne  slowly,  softly,  word 
by  word  the  message  Watkins  was  sending.  "  'The — 
white — goats — are — ready — for — '  No,  but  the  black 
sheep  is!  Come  on!" 

Traherne  did,  almost  before  the  two  words  were  out. 
Without  one  shimmer  of  sound  they  moved.  As  they 
passed  her,  Lucilla  Crespin,  with  a  death-like,  quivering 
face,  but  a  hand  that  never  trembled,  held  out  her  scarf. 
Traherne  took  it — he  already  held  his  own  handker 
chief  ready.  The  woman  pressed  her  hand  to  her 
mouth,  to  prison  in  the  scream  that  was  choking  her. 

Watkins  wired  methodically  on. 

Close  behind  him  stole  the  two  men — and  death. 

They  swooped  upon  him  without  so  much  as  noising 
the  air. 

Traherne  jabbed  the  gag  in.  They  tied  the  scarf — 
tight — mercilessly  tighter — still  tighter.  He  lurched. 
He  tried  to  squirm.  He  was  powerless — helpless.  He 
attempted  to  cry — it  trailed  off  into  a  strangled  gur 
gle.  That  gurgle  was  Watkins'  death-rattle.  He 
caught  at  the  edge  of  the  wireless  set,  clutching  it  so 
desperately  that  blood  clotted  and  purpled  under  his 
well-kept  finger-nails.  Crespin  wrenched  his  hands 
away,  twisted  his  arms  behind  him,  tied  the  wrists 
with  his  strong,  silk  handkerchief.  They  made  the  gag 
fast.  They  tightened  it  more.  They  pinioned  him 
well.  They  pinioned  him  not  too  kindly.  They 
swung  him  up  in  their  knotted  arms — Traherne's  face 
writhed.  Crespin  was  smiling.  He  struggled  desper 
ately.  But  Watkins  knew.  They  carried  him  out  of 
the  wireless-room.  He'd  never  listen-in  again.  He  had 
sent  his  last  message.  He  was  off  for  the  Last  Orderly 
Room.  Lucilla  Crespin  sobbed  as  they  passed  her, 


268  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

sobbed  and  clung  to  the  mantelpiece.  They  reached  the 
window.  His  head  fell  back,  hanging  from  his  limp 
neck  like  some  hideous,  distorted,,  unclean  growth. 
Over  the  cruel,  swathing  gag  she  saw  his  tortured  pig- 
like  eyes  strain.  She  turned  away. 

For  a  moment  they  rested  on  the  balustrade. 

"Must  we — ?"  Traherne  said  huskily. 

"Nothing  else  for  it" — Crespin  almost  chuckled— 
"one,  two,  three!" 

They  lifted.    They  threw. 

Compelled,  against  her  will,  Lucilla  Crespin  had  fol 
lowed  them — stood  watching,  petrified.  "One,  two, — • 
three!"  She  gave  a  gasping,  shuddering,  sick  cry. 
"One — two — three !"  Watkins,  the  Londoner — once  of 
the  Dorsets — had  reached  the  Orderly  Room — a  mass 
of  mangled  pulp,  down  there  in  the  Orderly  Room,  a 
sheer  drop  of  a  hundred  feet  long,  he  lay  facing  His 
Colonel. 

They  turned  away  from  the  balcony — they  stumbled 
back  into  the  room,  Traherne  like  a  drunken  man, 
Crespin  erect  and  soldierly.  He  crossed  the  room  with 
a  springy,  soldier's  tread,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of 
whiskey. 

"At  least,"  he  said  quietly,  as  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips, 
"we  haven't  taken  it  lying  down."  He  bent  his  mouth 
to  the  liquor — then — he  put  the  untouched  glass  down 
with  a  cry  of  intense  excitement.  "Hold  on !  Don't 
speak!"  They  kept  the  silence  they  dared  not  break. 
His  eyes  flamed,  and  leapt.  "I  have  it !"  he  cried.  .  .  . 
"Yes,  by  God,  I  have  it !  I've  remembered  the  call !" 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

"IT  WHISKEY  had  done  its  medicinal  work.  Alcohol 
*  *  had  wrought  its  miracle.  It  had  paid  something 
more  off  the  long  score  it  owed  Antony  Crespin. 

Dr.  Traherne  knew  it. 

"Can  you  lock  that  door?"  the  soldier  demanded, 
pointing  towards  the  corridor. 

His  wife  ran  to  it  breathlessly.  "No  key  this  side!" 
she  told  him  hoarsely. 

Traherne  went  to  it  quickly.  "Don't  open  it,"  he 
whispered.  "There  are  soldiers  in  the  passage.  I'll 
hold  it."  He  put  his  back  against  the  door — and  stood 
rock-like  before  it. 

Major  Crespin  strode  to  the  wireless  instruments, 
and  flung  himself  down  in  the  chair  worn  a  little  from 
the  often  sitting  of  what  lay  down  below  the  balcony, 
in  the  chair  still  warm  from  the  human  heat  of  living 
Watkins. 

Major  Crespin  took  no  thought  of  that.  He  was 
examining  the  instruments.  He  examined  them  rapidly. 

"The  scoundrel  had  reduced  the  current,"  he  ex 
claimed,  making  an  adjustment  with  feverish  haste, 
but  steady,  expert  fingers.  "Now  the  wave-length!" 
He  still  was  adjusting.  He  caught  up  the  receivers, 
and  clapped  them  on — they  too  still  a  little  warm  from 
Watkins'  ears.  Then  he  began  to  transmit,  sending 
their  desperate  cry  for  help  out  into  the  alien  spaces  of 
air — their  grand  hailing  cry  of  distress — over  the 
Himalayas  to  a  British-held  station.  Traherne  at  the 
door,  alert  for  the  slightest  movement  outside  it,  Lucilla 

269 


270  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

breathless,  drawn-eyed,  watched  him  breathlessly. 
They  were  openly  nervous  and  anxious,  tormented,  but 
Crespin  worked  calmly  on,  expert  and  confident,  braced 
by  the  liquor  he'd  gulped,  doubly  braced  and  better 
that  he  was  doing  something,  and  knew  that  he  was  able 
to  do  something — something  that  might,  by  God's  own 
mercy,  and  England's  own  good  luck,  avail  them,  and 
succor. 

He  ended  the  first  sending,  and  sat  listening  in 
quietly,  while  their  breath  came  in  painful  pants;  Tra- 
herne's  hands  knotted  convulsively,  the  agony-lines  in 
the  woman's  face  cutting  its  loveliness  deeper,  slashing 
furrow  and  sags  of  age  on  her  youth. 

"Do  you  get  any  answer?"  Traherne  whispered 
across  the  room,  impatience  cracking  through  the  leash 
of  his  prudence. 

"No,"  Crespin  replied  cheerfully,  over  his  shoulder. 
"No ;  I  don't  expect  any.  It  was  scarcely  worth  listen 
ing-in — I'm  sure  they  haven't  the  power.  But  it's  an 
even  chance  that  I  get  them  all  the  same.  I'll  repeat 
now — if  I  get  the  time."  Again  the  sure,  dexterous 
fingers  rushed  over  the  key.  Once  more  their  life-or- 
death  call  hurtled  out  into  the  almost  chartless  ocean 
of  atmosphere  over  the  mountains  of  Rukh,  calling, 
"For  our  blood's  sake,  and  the  flag's,  come  save  us." 

"Some  one's  coming  up  the  passage !"  Dr.  Traherne 
whispered  sharply.  "Go  on!  Go  on!  I'll  hold  the 
door." 

"Come  and  be  damned !"  Antony  Crespin  said.  And 
the  subtle  fingers  went  gayly,  carefully,  very  rapidly  on. 

Suddenly  Traherne  braced  himself  against  the  door, 
gripping  its  handle  till  his  knuckles  showed  white  and 
sharp  through  the  strained,  tanned  skin.  In  another 
moment  a  sharp  word  of  command  was  given  outside, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  271 

and  the  rasping  sound  came  in  of  shoulders  heaved 
against  the  man-held  door.  Traherne  put  all  his 
strength,  all  his  will,  to  the  stand  he  made,  but  grad 
ually  the  door  gave  to  the  greater  strength  outside, 
and  slowly  but  surely  three  of  Rukh's  guards  pushed 
it  open,  and  half  tumbled  into  the  room,  almost  thrown 
down  by  the  force  of  their  own  exertion.  And  Tra 
herne,  drenched  in  his  sweat — it  dripped  from  him — 
was  shoved  by  the  push  of  the  opening  door,  till  he 
stood,  trembling,  but  not  untriumphant,  not  far  from 
Mrs.  Crespin. 

Crespin  went  on  transmitting — thought  better  of  it 
— and  pretended  to  be  finding  some  wave-length,  care 
ful  that  it  should  not  be  that  to  Amil-Serai. 

The  corridor  was  a  Babel.  Hurried  steps  and  gut 
tural  oaths,  shrill  questions,  hot  commands  choked  and 
packed  it. 

Rukh  came  in  quickly — it  had  not  taken  him  long 
to  come — an  inscrutable  smile  on  his  tan  face,  a  mur 
derous  twinkle  in  his  quickened  eyes.  He  grasped  the 
situation  instantly — lifted  his  eyebrows  amusedly, 
keenly  surprised  even  in  the  moment's  imperative  rush 
— he  knew  he  had  no  time  to  waste — to  see  not  Tra 
herne  but  Crespin  at  the  instruments. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed  lightly.  "When  the  cat's 
away — "  He  laughed  delicately  as  he  whipped  out  a 
revolver,  and  instantly  fired. 

He  had  aimed  well.  His  eyes,  wrist  and  fingers  had 
been  as  steady  and  cool  as  quick. 

"Got  me,  by  God !"  Major  Crespin  exclaimed  with  a 
stolid  grunt,  as  he  crumpled  up,  fell  forward  over  the 
instrument.  But  he  recovered  himself  immediately, 
making  the  last  great  effort  of  his  ebbing  life,  its  su 
preme  effort  perhaps,  and,  with  a  lightning-like  rapid- 


272  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

ity,  that  seemed  more  of  intense  living  than  of  dying, 
unmade  the  instruments'  adjustment.  Then  with  a 
tormented  laugh,  a  ghastly  sound,  he  pulled  himself  up, 
groped  with  hands,  eyes,  sagging  head,  staggered  back 
from  the  wireless  set  and  lurched  into  the  arms  that 
caught  him  and  held  him,  Lucilla,  his  wife's,  and  Basil 
Traherne's,  while  Rukh,  smiling  impassively,  stood  and 
watched  them — and  the  guard,  crowding  the  snuggery 
now — watched  their  Raja  and  waited  his  command. 

They  got  the  dying  man  to  the  couch,  half  dragging, 
half  carrying  him  there — he  could  not  move — and  as 
they  passed  him,  the  Raja  drew  courteously  back  from 
their  way. 

They  laid  him  down — very  carefully.  And  he  smiled 
at  them  as  he  groaned. 

Traherne  looked  up,  as  he  knelt  holding  him  still, 
and  ordered,  "Brandy !" 

Lucilla  went  to  the  tantalus,  filled  a  glass,  and 
brought  it  back;  she  held  it  towards  Traherne,  then 
drew  it  back,  half-knelt,  half -sat  on  the  couch  where 
her  husband  lay ;  and  it  was  she  who  held  his  last  glass 
to  Antony  Crespin's  gray,  stiffening  lips. 

The  Raja  turned  away  quietly,  and  left  them,  mo 
tioning  the  guards  back  to  the  corridor  door.  He  him 
self  strolled  slowly  to  the  wireless  table,  saw  the  draft 
message,  written  in  a  woman's  hand,  still  lying  there, 
took  it  up  and  read  it. 

"Antony!"  the  wife  sobbed. 

He  smiled — and  a  man's  love  lit  his  filming  eyes. 
Then  they  sought  Traherne's.  They  gave  each  other  a 
long,  level  look. 

"Carry  on!"  Crespin  said.  Traherne  nodded,  tried 
to  speak,  choked,  then  mastering  himself  with  difficulty, 
muttered  brokenly,  "Well  played,  sir." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  273 

The  death-rattle  sounded,  the  hand  Lucilla  held  was 
more  lifeless  and  colder,  but  it  gripped  hers  yet.  "Give 
my  love,"  he  whispered  her,  "to" — the  rattle  again — 
"the  kiddies.  Lu — will  you" — again! — "kiss  them — 
for  me  ?"  She  nodded.  She  could  not  speak.  "Lu — 
Lu — Lu — "  his  voice  trailed  off,  and  died  in  his  rat 
tling  throat. 

Rukh  stood  in  the  folding-door's  opening  and  held 
out  towards  Crespin  the  paper  on  which  their  message 
was  written.  "How  much  of  this  did  you  get 
through  ?"  he  asked  in  a  clear,  vibrant  voice. 

"Too  late;  he'll  not  speak  again,"  Dr.  Traherne 
thought.  "You'll  get  nothing  from — that" — for  the 
form  they  held  was  cold  and  still. 

But  the  physician  was  wrong.  It  quivered  once 
more — the  cold  thing  they  held — the  ice-like  hand  clung 
once  more  to  the  woman's  fingers — Major  Crespin 
raised  himself  a  little,  something  very  human,  alive, 
hate  and  baffled  defeat,  gleamed  through  his  dead  eyes. 

"Damn  you" — he  said  clearly  and  bitterly — acknowl 
edging  defeat — "damn  you — none!" 

Antony  Crespin  had  gone.  His  corpse  slithered  back 
in  their  arms. 

"Antony!" 

But  she  knew  that  he  would  not  answer  her  again. 

She  drew  his  head  to  her  breast — and  Traherne 
rose,  and  left  them  together. 

"All  over,  eh?"  Rukh  asked  him  quietly. 

Dr.  Traherne  nodded. 

A  rougher  noise  muffled  the  woman's  quiet  sobbing. 
Native  soldiers  burst  through  the  corridor  door,  and 
rushed  pell-mell  to  the  Raja.  One  spoke  to  him  wildly, 
two,  not  waiting  the  order,  rushed  on  Traherne. 

The   man  that  had   spoken,    pointed   to  the   open 


274  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

window.  The  Raja  went  to  it  calmly,  and  looked  out 
over  the  narrow  balcony,  and  strolled  back  till  he  stood 
facing  Traherne  but  a  few  feet  away. 

"Tut,  tut — most  inconvenient,"  he  remarked  lan 
guidly,  not  ill-naturedly.  "And  foolish  on  your  part 
— for  now,  if  my  brothers  should  be  reprieved,  we  can 
not  hear  of  it.  What  a  pity — for  you,  perhaps.  Other 
wise — "  he  shrugged  slightly — "the  situation  remains 
unchanged.  We  adhere  to  our  program  for  to-morrow. 
The  Major  has  only  a  few  hours'  start  of  you."  And 
he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  passed  out  through  the  bil 
liard-room,  motioning  something  to  the  soldiers  stand 
ing  nearest  Traherne. 

When  Lucilla  Crespin  looked  up — it  was  not  for 
some  time — she  was  alone  in  the  room  with — her  hus 
band. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

"T  REGRET  that  I  must  offer  you  the  services  of  a 

•*•  less  well-trained  ayah,"  Rukh  said,  "but  it  is  un 
avoidable.  The  woman  who  has  waited  on  you  had 
the  bad  taste  to  be  greatly  attached  to  her  little — and,  I 
must  own,  not  one  would  think  personally  attractive — 
cockney  husband.  She  is — just  for  the  time  being,  of 
course — inconsolable.  And  her  noisy  grief — she's  of 
that  irritating  type — would  disturb  you.  And  too — she 
has  learned — I  regret  it;  but  no  autocrat  can  muzzle 
gossip,  and  such  chatter  flies  in  Rukh,  and  particularly 
fast  in  every  palace,  I  think — she  has  learned  how  the 
inestimable,  if  sometimes  indirect,  Watkins  came  by 
his  death.  I  could  force  her  to  attend  you,  but  even  I 
could  not  force  or  persuade  her  to  do  it  civilly." 

Mrs.  Crespin  made  no  reply. 

She  sat  on  a  wide  stone  bench,  soft  with  cushions 
and  fringed  breadths  of  silks,  in  the  garden  that  snug 
gled  radiantly  below  the  corridor  windows — and  the 
Raja  of  Rukh  stood  before  her,  his  face  to  the  palace 
towards  which  the  carved  bench  was  backed. 

He  had  sent  old  Ak-kok  to  bring  the  English  lady 
there  from  the  snuggery,  and  Ak-kok  had  obeyed  him 
sulkily,  but  had  obeyed.  Soldiers  had  gone  with  her 
to  see  that  she  did,  and  the  old  nurse  had  known  from 
Rukh's  manner,  even  more  than  from  his  words,  that 
in  this  she  dare  not  disobey  him.  There  were  times 
and  moods  in  which  her  prince  humored  and  obeyed 
her.  This  was  none.  And  when  the  soldiers  had  lifted 

275 


276  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

the  dead  man's  body  from  where  it  lay,  and  carried  it 
— not  disrespectfully — away,  and  had  indicated  by  un 
mistakable  gestures  that  she  might  not  follow  them, 
Lucilla  Crespin  had  turned  listlessly  and  gone  with  Ak- 
kok.  Why  not?  Nothing  mattered  now.  There  was 
no  fret  over  little  things  left  in  her — the  time  was  too 
short. 

And  so  she  sat  on  the  bench  to  which  the  old  Rukh 
woman  took  her,  then  turned  and  left  her.  And  pres 
ently  when  they  brought  her  food — men  in  the  Raja's 
white  and  gold  and  green  liveries — and  put  it  down 
near  her,  she  ate  and  drank,  because  she  wished  to  be 
strong  to-morrow  :  strong  to  die  quietly  and  proudly,  if 
no  help  came,  strong  to  live  to  reach  her  children — 
hers  and  Antony's — if  help  from  Amil-Serai  swooped 
down  on  imprisoning  Rukh.  The  men  servants  left  her 
as  soon  as  they'd  served  her,  but  a  girl,  evidently  of  the 
ayah  class,  stood  near,  as  if  in  her  service,  her  hands 
folded  in  her  sari,  her  eyes,  Lucilla  thought,  not  fana 
tically  inimical. 

The  Englishwoman  was  glad  to  be  free  of  the  palace 
walls — for  a  time ;  glad  to  sit  here  where  she  could  not 
see  it.  She  did  not  know  that  Rukh  himself  had  moved 
the  heavy  seat  so  that  its  back  was  turned  to  the  fort 
ress-palace.  And  she  was  glad  to  know  that  all  those 
thick  walls  stood  impenetrable  between  her  and  what 
lay — it  still  must,  she  thought,  the  drop  down  had  been 
so  far  and  so  sheer — in  the  gorge  below  the  snuggery 
balcony.  And  of  that  too  the  Raja  had  thought. 

She  did  not  see  the  garden  in  which  she  sat,  but  per 
haps  some  balm  of  its  beauty  and  quiet  stole  to  her  and 
laved  her. 

It  was  of  no  great  size,  though  its  twisted  length  was 
not  inconsiderable,  for  its  possible  fertile  perch  beside 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  277 

the  high-rock-placed  palace  was  narrow.  But  it  lay  a 
very  beautiful  ribbon  of  blooms  and  fragrant  shrubs, 
of  exquisite  vistas  and  lilied  tanks  at  the  edge  of  the 
fortress.  A  moat,  more  ornament  than  of  possible 
need  or  use,  was  cut  in  the  other  side,  and  over  the 
moat  and  its  shimmering  water  a  bridge — not  drawn 
now — was  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  bridge  in  Asia — 
a  bridge  of  writhing,  coiling  snakes,  carved  stone  and 
malachite  cunningly — and  at  what  human  labor! — in 
tertwisted  and  twined.  And  beyond  the  moat,  down 
on  the  brown  rocks'  narrow  perches  lay  the  tiny  dung- 
thatched  homes  of  the  peasants  of  Rukh.  And  the 
garden  was  pungent  with  hot,  mingled  sweetness. 

The  sun  was  setting.  To-morrow  at  sunset!  She 
lifted  her  hand  to  her  neck  and  felt  it  curiously.  At 
this  hour  to-morrow — she  shuddered.  Shame!  she 
cried  on  herself.  Englishwomen  had  died,  suffering 
worse  than  death  before  they  died.  She  was  going  to 
her  death  undefiled.  She  thanked  her  father's  God  for 
that !  And  as  she  threw  back  her  head  with  a  little  lift 
of  English  pride,  she  saw  the  hills  beyond  the  garden. 
It  was  good  to  see  the  mountains  so — the  great  white- 
topped  mountains.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  them  hun 
grily,  and  asked  that  from  them  her  help  might  come — • 
help  to  live,  help  to  home  and  babies,  or  help  to  die. 
Over  beyond  the  hills,  back  of  the  great  snow  piles  lay 
Pahari.  Ronny  and  Iris  were  there.  She'd  go  to  them, 
not  here  in  this  prison-place,  but  out  in  God's  own 
open,  she'd  be  with  them,  she'd  spend  such  hours  as 
were  left  her  now  with  them. 

Mother-love,  and  the  anguish-push — her  will,  made 
it  an  almost  omnipotent  thing,  wrought  its  incalculable 
miracle.  She  -was  with  her  children.  She  relived  with 
them  their  little  lives.  She  played  with  them.  She 


278  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

folded  her  arms  about  them.  She  gave  her  breasts  to 
their  baby  lips.  She  was  not  grieving  now — the  hours 
were  too  few — she  was  joying  in  her  boy  and  in  Iris. 
And  her  face  grew  younger  again,  and  softened. 

And  Rukh,  coming  noiselessly  to  her,  standing  and 
watching  her,  unseen  by  her,  wondered  at  what  he  saw 
in  her  altered  face — youth,  peace,  content.  He  had 
changed  again,  but  the  clothes  he  wore  now  still  were 
European. 

Even  when  he  spoke  at  last,  though  she  turned  quiet 
eyes  up  to  his,  she  paid  no  heed,  and  he  thought  did 
not  hear. 

She  made  no  attempt  to  go.  She 'showed  no  resent 
ment  of  his  presence.  He  would  have  preferred  either 
to  the  blank  she  gave — or  rather  the  blank  he  found. 
She  gave  nothing. 

He  tried  her  in  several  ways.  She  made  no  re 
sponse — gave  no  sign. 

He  bit  his  lip,  and  waited. 

At  last  he  beckoned  the  serving  woman,  and  sent 
her  away  to  execute  a  command.  While  she  was  gone 
he  told  Mrs.  Crespin  that  he  had  substituted  the  girl's 
service  of  her — the  best  he  now  had  to  offer  her — for 
that  of  the  woman  who  had  attended  her  till  now,  and 
added  his  regret  and  his  explanation. 

Mrs.  Crespin  made  no  comment. 

He  spoke  of  Dr.  Traherne.    She  made  no  reply. 

He  spoke  of  Antony  Crespin. 

She  gave  no  sign. 

But  when  the  young  ayah  came  back,  and  offered  a 
shawl,  an  exquisite,  delicate  thing  that  Lucilla  Crespin 
had  not  seen  before,  she  made  a  slight  gesture  of  re 
fusal,  and  said,  rising,  "I  will  go  to  my  room  now,  if  I 
may." 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  279 

"Your  wish  is  my  law,"  Rukh  told  her  quietly. 

She  smiled  faintly  at  that. 

"One  moment,"  he  begged  as  she  turned. 

She  did  not  turn  back,  but  she  paused,  and  waited. 

"You  will  dine — "  he  asked;  "you — perhaps" — his 
voice  almost  was  humble — "will  prefer  to  dine  alone?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  gesturing  the  ayah  to  show  her 
the  way,  went  slowly  and  calmly  back  to  the  palace 
door. 

And  for  her  proud,  still  courage,  he  maddened  for 
her  anew.  He  disliked  while  he  feared  and  ad 
mired  her  people,  he  despised  her  creed — as  indeed  he 
did  all  creeds  and  beliefs,  though  deep  in  his  blood 
something  both  love  and  reverence  of  the  Buddha  held 
and  was  quick — but  he  desired  her  fiercely  as  a  collector 
desires  the  one  rare  and  priceless  specimen  his  cabinets 
lack.  He  wanted  to  own  her,  but,  more  than  that,  he 
longed  to  gain  from  her  some  personal  response  to 
the  very  personal  feeling  towards  her,  the  kindling  in 
clination  that  tingled  and  throbbed  his  being. 

The  sun  had  quite  gone  when  he  too  left  the  garden, 
only  the  white  sheen  of  the  far,  high  mountains  light 
ing  it — for  the  stars  had  not  come  yet. 

At  the  sound  of  a  foot,  he  sprang  up  from  the  bench. 
It  was  not  the  fall  of  a  native  foot,  he  knew,  and  it  was 
a  woman's  tread. 

She  was  threading  her  way  back  through  the  garden 
— the  ayah  stood  quietly  waiting  at  the  side-door  of 
the  palace-wall.  He  had  ordered  strictly  that  no  one 
should  oppose  the  Ferenghi  lady  in  aught,  save  her 
passing  from  the  palace  precincts,  but  he  wondered  how 
she  had  found  her  way  back  through  the  long,  twisting 
palace  labyrinths — no  one  whose  tongue  she  knew,  no 
one  who  knew  hers. 


280  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

She  was  gathering  flowers — one  here,  one  there,  se 
lecting  them  carefully,  and  when  she  had  chosen  a  few, 
she  moved  quietly  on  until  she  reached  him.  He  had 
thought  she  had  not  seen  him,  but  she  must  have  done 
so,  for  her  joining  of  him  was  deliberate. 

She  spoke  first. 

"May  I,"  she  asked  quietly,  "see  my  husband?" 

"Is  it  necessary?"  Rukh  asked. 

"I  wish  it,"  she  told  him  gently. 

"Why  ?"  he  demanded.    "You  did  not  love  him !" 

"I  did — "  she  said,  looking  him  in  the  eyes. 

It  was  lighter  now.  The  first  stars  were  hanging 
out  their  lamps  of  green  and  blue,  and  the  moon  was 
cresting  the  horizon  lustily. 

"How  long  ago?"  the  Raja  asked. 

"May  I  see  Major  Crespin?"  she  repeated. 

"To  place  those  flowers  in  his  hands?  They  are 
Rukh-grown  you  know !" 

"For  his  children,"  she  said. 

"As  you  wish,"  the  Raja  told  her — after  a  pause. 
The  Raja  of  Rukh  was  not  unmoved.  A  warm  heart 
beats  always  under  the  Oriental  mask.  Antony  Cres- 
pin's  widow,  there  in  her  peril  and  loneliness,  in  his 
garden,  the  blossoms  she'd  filched  from  it  in  her  hand, 
had  reached  it.  He  desired  her.  He  intended  to  take 
her.  But  his  manhood  was  stirred. 

"To-night — it  is  growing  late — or  in  the  morning, 
Mrs.  Crespin  ?"  he  asked  her  softly. 

"Now,"  she  replied. 

"As  you  wish,"  he  repeated. 

"Thank  you,"  Mrs.  Crespin  told  him. 

But  for  his  turban,  he  still  wore  European  clothes. 
But  his  inseparable  silver  whistle  hung  at  the  coat  of 
his  gray  lounge  suit.  He  lifted  the  whistle.  But  she 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  281 

stayed  him  a  moment,  and  said,  "Will  you  tell  me — 
what — will  be  done — with  Major  Crespin's  body?" 

"I  had  not  thought  of  that  yet,"  Rukh  asserted.  It 
was  true.  "But  no  disrespect  shall  be  shown  to  what 
the  flowers  you  have  gathered  protects." 

"May  my  husband's  body  be  burned?"  she  asked. 

"You  prefer  it— to  burial?" 

"Much." 

Rukh's  dark  eyes  darkened.  She  preferred  it  to 
burial  here  in  Rukh,  he  knew.  But  after  an  instant's 
hesitation,  he  said  quietly :  "It  shall  be  done.  I  prom 
ise  you." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  again,  "I  will  go  to  him  now." 

The  Raja  bowed,  and  lifted  the  silver  whistle.  Its 
long  note  pierced  sharp  and  sweet  through  the  evening. 

"They  will  attend  you,"  he  said  when  he'd  given  the 
soldiers  who'd  come  a  crisp  order.  And  she  turned 
and  went  with  the  men,  the  young  ayah  close  behind 
her  as  they  entered  the  door  in  the  palace  wall. 

Rukh  made  no  attempt  to  follow. 

He  stood  and  watched  her.  And  when  she  had  gone, 
he  went  a  few  steps,  bent,  and  took  up  a  flower  she  had 
dropped,  and  he  drew  its  stem  through  the  buttonhole 
of  his  gray  lounge  coat.  It  was  a  pale  pink  tea-rose, 
and  its  scent  was  strong  and  sweet. 


CHAPTER  XL 

FEW  slept  in  Rukh  that  night.  Over  every  moun 
tain  path  eager  peasants  came  from  outlying  ham 
lets  and  solitary,  scattered  huts.  The  horn  lanterns 
they  swung  as  they  walked,  swarmed  the  hill-ways  like 
fireflies. 

The  place  of  sacrifices  was  burnished  and  garnished 
by  the  light  of  great  flaring  torches  that  temple 
girls,  stripped  to  their  slim,  brown  waists,  held  up, 
while  the  priests  chattered  and  chanted,  shifting  dirt 
heaps  into  less  conspicuous  coigns,  dusting  the  rough- 
hewn  carvings,  oiling  and  sharpening  a  knife,  taking 
dead  garlands  down,  putting  fresher  garlands  up — 
bringing  the  blood-bowls  out  of  the  rock-crevice  cup 
boards,  shaking  vestments  out  of  their  creases.  The 
whole  great  place  reeked  of  marigolds,  cocoanut  oil  and 
resined  torches.  To-morrow  it  would  reek  of  human 
blood.  Yazok  rubbed  his  hips  itchingly,  and  he  licked 
his  lips,  as  he  spat  in  a  blood-bowl  and  rubbed  it  with 
a  dirty  oil-soaked  rag  till  it  shone  anew. 

In  every  hut-home  preparations  were  making — fes 
tival  garments  being  mended  and  shaken,  flowers  and 
feathers  and  tufts  of  fur  woven  into  long  necklaces, 
bracelets,  anklets  and  head  bands.  Nuts  and  seeds 
were  roasted  and  chewed,  the  lewd  love  songs  of  the 
amorous  gods  were  sung  by  men  and  maidens,  old 
crones  and  toddling  baby-nakeds. 

The  palace  teemed  and  throbbed.  Servants  with 
rapt,  exalted  faces  moved  about  on  tireless  feet. 

282 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  283 

Priests  and  soldiers  crowded  corridor  and  stairs.  Sav 
ory  smells  belched  up  from  the  kitchens — children,  in 
soft  skin  sandals,  their  plump  groins  and  their  slim 
ones  swathed  in  gold,  white  and  green,  carried  fruit- 
heaped  trays  in  slim  young  arms,  and  on  sure-poised 
heads,  from  store-rooms  to  pantries.  Musicians 
cleaned  and  tuned  and  fresh-strung  their  instruments. 
Accouterments,  carpets  and  drapery  were  cleaned, 
and  shaken  and  scented.  The  palace  was  as  thick 
with  sandal-wood  smell  as  the  sacrificial  cave  was  of 
the  stench  of  rotting  flowers  and  leaves.  Long  ropes 
of  blossoms  were  hung  from  jut  to  jut  of  every  high 
carving.  Peacocks'  feathers  (carefully  garnered  in 
chests  and  closets — for  they'd  come  from  afar,  and 
had  cost  a  great  price)  were  taken  out  in  their  splen 
did,  iridescent  thousands  to  deck  rooms  and  corridors ; 
paints  and  perfumes  in  lacquered  boxes,  tinseled  and 
jeweled  tissues,  rainbow-silk  and  crepes  from  Japan, 
laces  from  Ceylon  and  Persia  were  heaped  and  tangled 
on  every  harem  floor.  The  children,  even  the  new 
born  girl  baby,  had  their  nails  fresh-tinted,  and  the 
women's  hands  were  rouged  up  to  their  knuckles. 

Every  posture-girl  had  new  gauzy,  tinsel-weighted 
garments,  and  at  least  one  new  ornament — nose-jewel 
or  anklet  or  hair-plaque — and  swayed  on  dancing  feet 
with  delight  as  she  tried  them  on.  Of  all  the  palace, 
perhaps  old  Ak-kok  was  happiest.  Her  wrinkled 
parchment  face  was  radiant,  and  in  honor  of  to-mor 
row's  greatness  she  herself  wrung  its  head  from  a 
young  pigeon,  tore  out  its  hot  heart,  still  beating,  and 
rammed  it  into  La-swak's  gaping  mouth.  He  made  a 
sick  face  at  first,  but  then  he  found  he  liked  it  better 
than  he'd  thought,  sucked  it  consideringly,  then  gave 
a  sudden  sick  gulp,  and  the  bird's  still  hot,  pulsing 


284  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

heart  was  down,  hot  and  pulsing  in  La-swak.  And 
old  Ak-kok  hugged  him  to  her  bony  breast  in  ecstasy; 
for  that  the  new-slaughtered  vital  had  gone  intact  into 
the  intestinal  keeping  of  La-swak  was  unquestionable 
augury  that  he  would  live  to  be  a  great  ruler,  a  mighty 
warrior  and  a  favored  priest  of  the  Green  Goddess. 

Out  of  their  byres  and  steep  pasture-nooks  (all  the 
pasture  places  that  the  rough-hilled  place  afforded)  the 
drowsy  humped  cattle  were  roused  from  their  sleep  by 
the  laughing,  shouting  children  that  came  to  hang  blos 
soms  on  their  wrinkled  necks.  Two  great  steers 
chafed  and  pawed  as  agile  men  gilded  their  horns, 
avoiding  them,  the  lowered  horns,  meanwhile  as  well 
as  they  could.  Each  horn-gilder  had  two  other  men 
beside  him,  protecting  him  with  long  bamboo  poles, 
cruelly  sharpened  at  one  end,  with  which  they  prodded 
and  bled  the  beast's  sides  as  often  as  it  seemed  too  in 
clined  to  charge.  The  steers  bellowed  and  lurched  and 
bled,  the  men  gilded  and  pricked  and  ran  sweat — it  ran 
rapidly  down  their  brown  faces — and  dodged  as  skil 
fully,  but  not  as  gracefully  as  Spanish  matadors,  and 
the  rabble  of  children  circled  about  them,  waving  deo 
dar  wands,  and  posies,  screaming  and  clapping  their 
thin  olive  hands,  applauding  and  urging  on  quite  im 
partially  the  angry  bulls  and  the  reeking  men.  These 
steers  would  have  great  pride  of  place  in  the  morrow's 
spectacle,  for  theirs  the  office  to  trample  the  still  warm 
sacrifices  that  were  to  be  laid  at  the  Goddess's  feet, 
and  to  drag  away  between  the  cheering  tight-packed 
ranks  of  the  worshipers  the  de-severed  trunks  of  the 
Feringhis.  When  the  horns  shone  out  through  the 
night  gilded  and  burnished,  then  the  hoof-gilding 
came,  more  difficult  still,  and  greatly  more  perilous; 
then  wrhen  the  infuriated,  switching  tails  had  been 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  285 

paint-coated  carmine  and  blue,  the  last  finishing  touch 
was  given — great  circles  of  green  on  each  white  heav 
ing  side,  and  the  toilet  was  done.  The  gilders  squat 
ted  down  with  grunts  of  relief — not  too  near — and 
mopped  their  faces  with  their  sleeves,  which  they  un 
wound  for  the  purpose,  and  fell  to  kernel  chewing  or 
the  smoking  of  long,  green,  Burmese-like  cheroots. 
But  the  sacrificial  steers  were  not  allowed  so  to  rest. 
The  sharp  bamboo  poles  still  relentlessly  kept  them 
upright  and  firm  on  all  fours,  for  they  must  neither 
squat  nor  relax  till  their  fresh  finery  of  gold-leaf  and 
thick  paint  was  quite  dry. 

Pregnant  women  in  hut  and  on  hillside  were  drink 
ing  hot  gingered  drams,  and  praying  clamorously :  for 
any  child  born  as  the  death-horn  sounded  would  bring 
with  it  into  life  great  god-promised  good-luck  and 
strength  and  health,  endless  endurance,  assured  ad 
vancement — even  a  girl-child ;  for  on  her  some  man  of 
the  royal  house's  eyes  would  fall  with  pleasure  one 
day. 

The  Great  Horn  of  Rukh — after  its  temples  and 
palace  the  Kingdom's  first  and  deepest  pride — was  be 
ing  obsequiously  tended.  Priests  squatted  about  it 
incanting  and  chanting,  wine  was  spilled  on  the  fruit- 
and-grain-and-flower-piled  crag  it  stood  on,  its  great 
brazen  throat  was  scoured  and  cleaned,  and  immense 
tribute  of  incense  was  burned  about  it. 

Basil  Traherne  heard  the  execrable  hubbub,  and 
writhed  in  his  thongs.  He  was  well  bound  now;  but 
twice  in  the  night  they  brought  him  cups  of  warmed, 
strong  wine,  and  he  gulped  it  down,  when  held  to  his 
lips :  he  too  resolved  to  husband  his  strength.  Would 
the  aircraft  come?  Had  their  message  gone  through? 
He  feared.  At  the  worst  and  last,  would  the  Raja 


286  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

spare  Lucilla's  life?  He  feared  that  most.  He  had 
no  sleep. 

Lucilla  Crespin  had  none.  She  heard  less  of  the 
din  without  and  the  movement  within  the  palace  than 
any  other  did — the  Raja  had  contrived  that  as  well 
as  he  could — but  she  heard  enough.  And  she  heard 
her  own  heart  beat,  and  the  chokes  that  strangled  her 
throat.  She  thought  she  heard  her  nerves  crack;  she 
feared  she  was  losing  her  nerve,  her  resolution  and 
grip.  Twice  she  heard  her  children  cry.  Once  she 
heard  her  father  call.  No  thong  bound  her,  hands 
and  limbs  were  unfettered,  her  couch  was  soft.  But 
she  knew  that  unseen  black  eyes  were  watching  her 
vigilantly  through  some  crack  or  crevice,  she  could  not 
see  either,  and  now  and  then  she  heard  the  sentries 
move  as  they  changed  guard.  She  tried  to  pray.  But 
no  prayer  would  shape  or  word  in  her  tortured,  trem 
bling  soul.  But  she  thought  that  God  knew.  She  lay 
on  her  rugs  and  pillows  as  motionless  as  she  could — 
and  waited.  But  when  day  smote  the  night,  and  dawn 
banished  the  dark,  the  night  had  marked  her — let 
death  come  now,  or  life  last  long,  that  night  had 
branded  her  for  all  time. 

And  no  sleep  came  to  the  Raja  of  Rukh.  His  vigil 
was  not  the  pleasantest  kept.  No  reproach  of  con 
science  tormented  him.  He  deemed  the  cruelty  he  was 
doing,  and  that  that  he  intended  to  do  when  the  sun 
next  set,  justice.  His  soul  had  no  qualms.  His  Ori 
ental  mind  had  no  doubt — no  doubt  of  his  full  justifi 
cation.  The  King  could  do  no  wrong,  the  venger  of 
blood  commit  no  unhallowed  excess.  But  his  thoughts 
had  sour,  sick  qualms.  Had  the  English  Major's  wire 
less  gone  through?  Did  Amil-Serai  know?  If  so, 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  287 

Rukh  knew.  And  his  pride  had  a  hurt.  What  he 
desired  he  intended  to  take  (if  Amil-Serai  did  not 
send!)  as  far  as  he  could.  But  he  was  powerless  to 
take  all;  for  the  English  woman  would  not  give. 
Would  she  ever  come  to  give  ?  He  wondered.  Could 
he  win  that?  His  absolutism  could  command  and 
enforce.  But  could  he  win?  And  his  hookah  tasted 
foul  and  sour  as  he  sucked  it.  His  swarthy  face  grew 
gray.  His  blood  hungered,  and  the  fine  blue  veins 
in  his  temples  swelled  and  throbbed. 

The  man  was  afraid — not  of  what  might  come  from 
Amil-Serai.  He  should  dislike  dethronement  and  ban 
ishment  ;'  but  they  were  ever  present  possibilities  in  the 
heave  and  sag  of  Asian  dynasties,  and,  if  they  came  to 
him,  he  could  face  them  as  well  as  another,  better  than 
most — for  he  knew  his  way  about  on  the  continent  of 
Europe,  and  could  amuse  himself  there  vastly.  He 
knew  how  to  secure  a  vast  horde  of  treasure  and  jew 
els,  how  to  get  away  with  much  of  the  horde  of  coins 
grimed  under  the  bastioned  palace.  And  no  doubt  La- 
swak  would  reign  in  his  stead.  No —  he  hoped  that 
nothing  would  come  from  Amil-Serai,  but,  if  it  did, 
he — the  Raja — knew  how  to  meet  and  accept  it. 
But  the  man  was  afraid — afraid  of  a  personal  defeat 
— defeat  of  a  personal  wish — an  injury  to  personal 
pride  and  to  personal  vanity.  His  vanity  was  almost 
inordinate,  and  as  sensitive  as  it  was  big,  for  his  mind 
was  too  acute,  his  intelligence  too  fine  for  his  vanity 
to  be  the  thick,  hidebound,  invulnerable  thing  that  it 
is  at  its  happiest.  His  self-confidence  had  wider 
areas  of  attack  than  the  skin  of  Achilles  had. 

He  took  no  part  now  in  the  preparations  for  the 
bloody  morrow.  He  had  given  his  orders.  They 


288  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

would  be  obeyed.  And  for  the  rest,  he  but  waited — 
alone,  as  little  unserenely  as  he  could.  He  had  no 
sleep. 

Of  the  palace  servants  there  was  one,  only  one,  who 
took  no  part  in  those  wild  and  elaborate  preparations 
— for  the  motionless  sentries  who  guarded  the  human 
objects  of  slaughter,  and  the  young  ayah,  who  salaamed 
as  she  proffered  food  to  Lucilla  Crespin,  participated 
in  it  most  importantly. 

When  the  night  time  was  thickest,  a  huddled  thing 
rose  from  the  floor  in  the  room  that  had  been  slept  in 
by  Watkins,  the  Raja's  English  valet,  and  stole  through 
corridors,  archways  and  silent  apartments,  out  of  the 
palace,  out  through  the  walls,  over  the  moat,  out  to 
the  jungle :  a  half -naked,  bleak-eyed  woman. 

The  Raja,  standing  restless  at  a  casement,  saw  her 
go,  and  smiled  not  unkindly.  She'd  not  get  there,  but 
if  she  chose  to  try — perhaps  to  give  her  life  in  attempt 
ing  it,  it  was  nothing  to  him.  He  watched  a  moment, 
or  two,  then,  "East  and  West,  again!"  he  said  with  a 
shrug  and  turned  on  his  heel.  He  had  given  no  order 
that  the  thing  down  there  a  hundred  feet  below  his 
snuggery's  balcony  should  be  fetched  for  burial,  or 
given  any  obsequies,  even  the  roughest,  there  where  it 
was.  The  way  was  too  perilous.  He'd  not  risk  one 
ankle  of  any  soldier  who  was  still  his  own  living  asset. 
He  had  had  use  for  Watkins  living,  he  had  none 
for  him  dead.  And  he  knew  that  without  his  com 
mand  no  one  in  Rukh — bar  the  ayah — would  give  the 
English  satellite  aught  better  than  a  curse  or  an  ex 
pectoration  of  hate.  "East  and  West,"  he  repeated 
with  a  hard  mirthless  laugh. 

Up  towards  the  snow,  down  towards  the  jungle,  on 
through  the  jungle  she  tore  and  broke  her  way,  now 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  289 

meshed  in  branches  and  bramble  and  cobra-like  vines, 
now  perched  and  scrambling  goat-like  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice,  the  sandals  ribboned  and  cut  from  her  feet 
by  stones,  her  one  coarse  garment  ripped  by  thorns, 
her  long  black  hair  hanging  unkempt  about  her  naked 
shoulders.  A  vulture  cried,  jungle  things  growled 
and  hissed,  tom-toms  crashed  down  below  her,  and 
then  from  above,  but  the  ayah  who  had  been  Watkins' 
took  no  heed.  Blood  ran  on  her  breasts  where  her 
own  finger-nails  had  clawed  them,  blood  caked  on  her 
mouth  where  her  teeth  had  chewed  it.  Up  in  the 
lower  snow-line  a  rivulet  ran  angrily,  icy  cold;  she 
walked  through  it,  her  bleeding  feet  not  feeling  or 
shrinking  its  bitter,  intense  cold,  as  they  would  not 
have  felt  or  shrunk  had  it  boiled  with  heat  as  intense. 
The  sharp  prong  of  a  down-hanging  branch  caught 
her  ear,  she  tore  it  away,  and  the  cartilage  with  it. 
On  she  went,  now  up,  now  down,  heeding  lynx-like 
where,  not  heeding  how — seeking  her  dead.  A  geyser 
spring  boiled  up  from  red-hot  stones,  she  went  straight 
through  it — it  was  the  shortest  way — neither  slower 
nor  faster.  Up  again  to  the  higher  place  where  the 
only  footholds  led  her,  the  snow  clogged  her  skirt- 
all  that  she  wore — and  its  rough,  unhemmed  edge  froze 
to  her  flesh — but  it  did  not  matter,  since  she  did  not 
know.  Her  hair  and  her  forehead  were  smeared  thick 
with  ashes  horridly  mixed.  She  wore  only  her  own 
matted  hair,  above  her  waist,  below  it  only  the  rag  of 
sackcloth.  Her  breath  came  in  short,  hard  pants. 
Her  sunken  eyes  burned  red. 

At  last  she  found  him — all  that  was  left  of  him. 

How  she  had  beaten  and  clutched  her  way  down  the 
footholdless  sides  of  that  high  ravine  was  unthinkable. 
No  man  could  have  done  it,  no  goat  without  snapping 


290  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

its  legs,  scarcely  a  snake  without  peeling  off  its  skin 
and  losing  its  sinuous  balance. 

But  she  had,  and  she  crouched  down,  and  moaned 
piteously  over  the  broken,  mangled  remains — all  that 
was  left  of  him — left  of  a  derelict  cockney. 

If  England  with  her  quiet  waysides,  her  cowslip- 
flecked  pastures,  her  gardens  of  roses,  her  fragrance  of 
hop-vines,  her  red  baubled  cherry-trees,  her  flushed- 
face  apples,  her  peaceful  churchyards,  her  ivied  gray 
village  churches,  her  carol  of  cathedral  bells,  her  em 
erald  lawns,  her  oak-trees,  her  ribbon-hung  May-poles 
with  young  health  and  happiness  circling  dance-steps 
about  them,  the  ring  of  her  playing  fields,  the  sheen 
and  the  wealth  of  her  rivers,  her  red-coats  and  her  boys 
in  blue,  her  clucking  hens,  and  her  sleek,  lowing  kine, 
her  firesides  and  her  castles,  Oxford  and  Windermere, 
her  sea-washed  feet  and  her  crown  of  fog — and  her 
London  slums — had  shown  him  no  womanliness, 
suckled  him  with  no  milk  o'  human  kindness,  given  him. 
no  love,  Asia  had. 

Had  he  been  kind  to  her,  the  native  woman,  tossed, 
to  him  soul  and  body,  by  a  despot  carelessly? 

It  looked  like  it. 

It  looked  like  it,  as  she  knelt  there  moaning  beside 
him,  whispering  tenderness  and  love  words  to  him 
between  her  sobs — straightening  his  broken  twisted 
limbs  as  well  as  she  could,  lifting  his  one  hand — the 
other  was  red  pulp-stripped  bone — to  her  forehead. 

When  she  had  stolen  from  the  palace  she  had  held 
in  one  hand  a  cluster  of  marigolds.  All  the  way  she 
had  come  she  had  carried  them  carefully.  She  had 
them  still.  She  held  them  against  her  breast  for  a 
moment,  then  gently  pushed  them  into  his  hand,  and 
laid  it  down. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  291 

The  birds  had  been  there  before  her — but  not  many, 
it  was  too  far  down,  palled  in  darkness  by  the  high 
walls  of  rock  between  which  the  strip  of  ravine  lay  so 
narrow.  One  hand — had  it  ever  struck  her? — was 
beaked  and  defiled,  but  not  much  else.  Most  of  the 
human  body  she  had  loved,  caressed  and  served  lay 
there,  horrid  now,  but  hers. 

A  vulture  cawed  high  up  in  a  cypress.  The  woman 
heard,  and  crouched  lower,  like  a  hen  over  her  chicks. 

Out  from  some  crack  in  the  great  wall  of  rock  a 
lithe  white-marked  gray  leopard  peered.  She  heard 
its  sudden  purr  of  delight,  and  looked  up  at  it,  and  its 
great  green  eyes  glared  down  at  them,  ravished  and 
famished.  She  heard  the  vulture's  wings  flap.  She 
looked  up — still  higher,  and  saw  the  scavenger-bird's 
bald  head  thrust  out,  a  vicious,  fleshless  skull  in  the 
clear  moonlight  above. 

She  saw.  But  she  didn't  care.  As  well  one  way 
as  any  other. 

But  nothing  should  harm  him,  nothing  should  touch 
a  hair  of  that  battered  head — first. 

She  covered  the  thing  beside  her  with  her  body,  and 
waited. 

The  snow-leopard  slunk,  slowly,  stealthily  nearer. 

The  vulture  craned  its  bleak  bony  head,  and  watched. 
It  must  wait — till  the  leopard  had  done. 

And  when  day's  first  apple-green  slipped  up  from 
the  East,  the  native  woman  slept  on  her  last  marriage 
bed. 

It  was  very  quiet. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

IT  well  might  have  been  the  wedding-day  of  heaven 
and  earth,  it  was  so  lovely.  There  were  scant 
wild  flowers  in  Rukh,  but  each  that  there  was  lifted  up 
a  glad,  gay  face.  There  are  few  song-birds  in  the 
Himalayas,  but  a  lark  sang  and  swayed  on  the 
spear-shaped  lace  of  a  green  bamboo,  and  a  choir  of 
thrushes  throated  up  a  silver  carol  of  song  from  the 
full-berried  rowans.  Yellow  sunshine  lay  in  unbroken, 
imperial  swathes  everywhere.  Children  laughed  and 
pranked,  women  sang  at  their  tasks — none  doing  more 
than  she  must  to-day — men  smoked  and  walked  about 
arm  in  arm. 

All  was  ready — except  the  hour — and  all  were  radi 
ant,  expectant  and  happy.  There  was  feasting  and 
love-making,  goodwill  and  fellowship.  And  the  priests 
moved  about  with  an  arrogant  swing  of  their  hips,  and 
all  the  people  salaamed  at  their  approach,  as  if  they'd 
been  gods  themselves,  instead  merely  the  servers  of 
gods,  and  dressed  in  their  best  garb. 

At  the  full  of  the  mid-day  heat  a  great  hush  fell. 
There  was  no  breath  of  air,  nothing  moved.  All  Rukh 
seemed  waiting  in  eager  silence  like  some  great  beast 
poised  to  spring.  The  hours  crawled  seemingly  stag 
nantly  through  the  water  clocks,  and  the  green  and  blue 
dragon-flies  seemed  asleep  on  the  down  of  the  bronze 
and  lemon  thistles. 

Lucilla  grew  calmer  and  braver  as  the  slow  mo 
ments  went,  because  the  end  was  nearer.  It  was  some- 

292 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  293 

thing  of  stimulant,  and  something  of  narcotic  too,  that 
so  soon  it  would  be  over — strain,  fear,  suspense  gone 
forever. 

Only  the  young  ayah  came  near  her — bringing  her 
food  and  drink,  silently  offering  her  attendance.  No 
message  came  from  the  Raja,  and  she  sent  him  none. 
No  message  could  have  come,  unless  written,  or 
brought  by  him  himself — since  none  left  in  his  service 
now  could  speak  any  word  she'd  understand. 

Traherne  felt  turning  to  stone.  He  no  longer  was 
bound,  but  he  scarcely  moved.  They  brought  too  to 
him  food  and  drink.  He  took  what  he  could,  and 
waited  stonily — neither  patient  nor  impatient.  The 
long  night  had  sapped  his  emotion.  He  was  numb 
rather  than  tormented.  Tension  and  regret  (the  air 
flight  had  been  his  suggestion)  and  pallid  fear  had 
mercifully  gnawed  away  his  power  to  feel  or  to  suffer 
much. 

They  had  not  met  since  he'd  been  pinioned  in  the 
snuggery,  and  dragged  roughly  from  it.  No  message 
— except  thought's  throbbing  wireless — had  reached 
either  from  either.  Neither  'had  heard  anything  of 
the  other. 

But — however  dulled  their  senses,  however  lulled 
their  pain,  each  watched  and  wished  for  the  sun  to 
sink,  and  each  listened  ceaselessly  with  straining  ears 
to  catch  the  first  distant  throb  of  a  far-off  aero 
plane's  engine. 

None  came. 

The  sun  was  sinking  at  last,  slowly,  surely. 

And  again  expectant  human  noises  and  stir  came  in 
the  palace  and  out  in  the  rocky,  mountainous  open. 
And  again  hatred,  blood-lust  and  fanaticism  belched 
through  the  shimmering  air,  and  the  stench  of  mari- 


294  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

golds  and  cocoanut  oil,  and  the  reek  of  lewd,  guttural 
songs. 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  strained  hearing  and  nerves  for 
the  sound  of  English  aeroplanes. 

None  came. 

The  sun  sank  lower. 

A  group  of  priests  was  gathered  at  the  doorway  of 
the  great  gloomy  hall  that  opened  on  to  the  public  open 
place  of  greatest  and  ceremonial  sacrifice — as  priests 
had  gathered  there  for  centuries  at  such  times  as  this, 
when  big  tribal  events  called  for  special  observation, 
of  triumph,  or  defeat  or  peril  quivered  and  bleated  for 
special  appeasement  of  their  six-armed  deity.  Wild- 
eyed,  four-footed,  soft-skinned  creatures  had  been 
slaughtered  in  their  terrified,  moaning  hecatombs  out 
there  in  that  courtyard,  and  human  lives  had  been  of 
fered  in  sacrifice  there  before  this — the  lives  of  mis 
creants  who  had  angered  a  prince — but  not  often  enemy 
lives — not  nearly  often  enough :  Rukh  lay  too  far 
from  other  principalities,  too  remote,  too  rock-and- 
peak-bound,  and  the  tribes  that  lay  nearest  were  too 
strong  and  warlike,  too  as  apt  to  give  defeat  as  to  meet 
it.  And  never  before  had  the  courtyard  ground  run 
red  with  white  blood. 

To-day  was  the  supreme  day  of  Rukh's  history.  Not 
a  man  there,  not  a  little  child,  not  a  woman  giving  suck 
as  they  waited,  but  thanked  the  gods  for  having  been 
born,  and  having  lived  to  see  it. 

To  see  the  white  man  die,  when  the  blood-red  of  the 
sunset  came !  They  ached  for  that.  And  most  of 
all  they  longed  to  see  the  Feringhi  woman  slaughtered, 
and  her  head  laid  at  the  feet  of  their  'Goddess.  Not 
one  here  had  ever  seen  a  white  woman  die,  not  even 
the  ancient  few  who  had  trapped  and  disemboweled 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  295 

human  prey  near  the  Khyber.  Only  one  of  them  all 
ever  had  seen  a  Feringhi  woman  until  two  days  ago 
when  the  great  bird  had  thrown  at  the  feet  of  their 
Goddess  the  Feringhi  woman  who  was  being  decked 
now,  up  there  in  the  palace,  in  her  death  robes. 

It  was  the  woman's  death  they  most  longed  to  see 
— a  white  she-victim  slain  at  the  feet  of  the  great 
green  she-god!  It  was  that  that  they  craved  with 
drunken,  demented  longing. 

For  a  whisper  had  crept  through  the  Kingdom  of 
Rukh. 

And  the  women  there,  waiting  and  lusting,  longed 
for  it  most. 

The  crowd  at  the  edge  of  the  courtyard  seethed  and 
pushed.  And  silk-clad,  veil-and-shawl-shrouded  fig 
ures  glided  down  from  the  palace-harem,  some  in  their 
litters,  some  on  foot,  squeezed  in  among  the  crowding, 
packed  peasants,  harem  ladies,  royal-born  or  bought 
for  great  price.  Their  jewels  jingled  and  flashed 
under  their  shawls  and  veils,  and  they  scented  the  day 
with  attar  of  roses. 

A  priest  with  an  unscabbarded  sword  in  his  hand 
guarded  the  opening  into  the  great  hall,  but  the  Chief 
Priest  stood  just  inside  it,  holding  the  curtains  that 
hung  there  slightly  apart,  peering  out  at  the  waiting, 
exultant  people — he  liked  them  well,  as  he  saw  them — 
and  scanning  the  path  that  came  down  from  the 
castle. 

There  are  several  halls  not  unlike  this  back  of  the 
Himalayas;  there  is  none  in  the  Punjab. 

Great  columns  of  wood,  rudely  carved  with  dis 
torted  animal  and  human  figures,  supported  the  high 
roof.  The  walls  too  were  of  wood — it  was  rarer  and 
costlier  in  Rukh  than  stone — carved  as  rudely  and  gro- 


296  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

tesquely,  and  they  were  pierced,  higher  by  several  feet 
than  a  tallest  man's  head,  by  a  rough  clerestory — a 
series  of  oblong  slits  through  which  the  deep  blue  sky, 
just  changing  to  sunset's  splendid  motley,  showed  like 
a  velvet  drop-cloth  of  some  magnificent  theatric  spec 
tacle.  Roofs  and  walls  and  pillars  were  a  dead,  dull, 
dark  brown — somber,  foreboding — but  here  and  there 
the  interstices  between  the  repellent  carvings  were 
washed  a  dull  red.  At  one  side  of  the  hall  a  high 
curtained  doorway,  the  curtain  a  terrible  tapestry  of 
human  slaughter  and  gods'  amours,  led  into  the  awful 
disrobing  room,  where  priests  put  on  their  costliest 
vestments,  and  victims  their  garlands  of  sacrifice.  An 
opposite  door  was  heavily  barred,  but  an  oblong  hole, 
when  its  sliding  shutter  was  slid,  made  a  hagioscope 
through  which  the  guard  within  could  inspect  whoever 
approached  it  from  without.  At  the  far  end  of  the 
hall  heavy  curtains,  similar  indecent  tapestries,  covered 
a  wide  opening. 

The  late  afternoon  light,  burning  in  through  the 
clerestory  slits,  dappled  the  somber  floor. 

A  rhythmic,  subdued  murmur  swayed  through  the 
expectant  crowd,  and  as  slow  figures  came  down  the 
castle-path  swelled  into  a  tossing  sea-like  storm  of 
deep  and  hushed  execration,  but  the  women  smiled  as 
they  cursed,  the  children  still  sucked  at  their  long  sticks 
of  sweet-cane  and  painted  sugars,  and  the  downy  babies 
still  sucked  at  the  brown  breasts  of  their  mothers. 

Tom-toms  crashed,  drums  echoed,  pipes  screeled, 
skin  and  reed  implements  sounded  tunelessly.  A 
woman  sobbed  in  ecstasy — others  caught  it  up  and 
chorused  it. 

The  guard  at  the  bolted  door,  a  tiger- faced,  panther- 
pelt-clad  bronze  giant,  slipped  back  the  "squint's"  shut- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  297 

ter  and  looked  through  it,  then  unbolted  and  swung 
open  the  door. 

Two  lusty  soldiers  carried  in  and  set  down  a  rude 
mountain  chair.  Two  other  soldiers  guarded  it  on 
either  side,  and  in  it,  tight-lipped,  proud-eyed,  strapped 
to  it  securely,  sat  the  English  doctor,  Basil  Traherne. 

Timed  to  the  second,  the  Raja  of  Rukh  appeared  at 
the  opposite  door  as  the  chair  was  borne  in.  His  cloth- 
of-gold  and  rose  and  green  satin  robes,  but  shaped  like 
a  priest's,  barely  showed  through  the  barbaric  blaze 
of  the  jewels  that  encrusted  them.  The  autocrat-priest 
gestured,  and  the  soldier-bearers  put  down  the  chair; 
he  motioned  again  and  the  four  soldiers  drew  away 
to  the  courtyard's  edge. 

And  victim  and  tyrant-judge  eyed  each  other  silent 
and  grim. 

'  Then  Rukh  smiled  slightly  and  spoke.  "Well,  Doc 
tor,"  he  said  in  his  slow,  velvet  voice,  "it  doesn't  ap 
pear  that  any  'god  from  the  machine'  is  going  to  inter 
fere  with  our  program." 

"You  are  bringing  a  terrible  vengeance  upon  your 
self,"  the  Englishman  said  sternly.  But  it  sounded 
as  if  he  scarcely  troubled  to  say  it  at  all. 

"Think,  my  dear  Doctor,"  the  Raja  retorted  lightly. 
"If,  as  the  Major  said,  he  did  not  get  your  S.O.S. 
through,  I  have  nothing  to  fear.  If  he  lied,  and  did 
get  it  through,  nothing  can  ultimately  save  me,  and  I 
may  as  well  be  hung  for  a  sheep  as  for  a  lamb." 

"You  might  have  spared  me  this !"  the  Englishman 
said,  writhing,  in  spite  of  himself,  in  his  bends. 

"A  ritual  detail,  Doctor,"  Rukh  said  deprecatingly ; 
"not  quite  without  reason.  Persons  lacking  in  self- 
control  might  throw  themselves  to  the  ground,  or 
otherwise  disarrange  the  ceremony." 


298  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"I  am  not  without  self-control,"  the  physician  told 
him  haughtily. 

The  Raja  bowed,  smiling  slightly;  then  gave  a  curt 
order,  at  which  the  bearers  hastened  back  and  cut  the 
thongs,  and  as  Traherne  strode,  still  a  little  cramped, 
from  the  chair,  carried  it  away. 

Traherne  looked  about  him  hurriedly — but  what  he 
hoped  and  feared  to  see  was  not  there. 

"What  have  you  done  with  Mrs.  Crespin?"  he  de 
manded. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,"  was  the  smooth  reply;  "she 
will  be  here  in  due  time." 

"Listen  to  me,  Raja,"  Traherne  said  in  a  low,  earn 
est  voice,  going  very  close  to  the  other,  almost  laying 
his  hand  on  Rukh's  sleeve.  "Do  what  you  will  with 
me,  but  let  Mrs.  Crespin  go.  Send  her  to  India  or  to 
Russia,  and  I  am  sure,  for  her  children's  sake,  she  will 
swear  to  keep  absolute  silence  as  to  her  husband's  fate 
and  mine." 

"You  don't  believe,  then,  that  I  couldn't  save  you 
if  I  would?"  Rukh  demanded. 

"Believe  it?"  Traherne  scoffed.     "No!" 

The  Raja  smiled.  "You  are  quite  right,  my  dear 
Doctor.  I  am  not  a  High  Priest  for  nothing.  I  might 
work  the  oracle.  I  might  get  a  command  from  the 
Goddess  to  hurt  no  hair  upon  your  heads." 

"Then,"  Traherne  asked,  "what  devilish  pleasure 
do  you  find  in  putting  us  to  death?" 

"Pleasure?"  Rukh  echoed.  "The  pleasure  of  a 
double  vengeance.  Vengeance  for  to-day — my  broth 
ers — and  vengeance  for  centuries  of  subjection  and 
insult.  Do  you  know  what  brought  you  here?"  he 
said  with  sudden  smothered  passion.  "It  was  not 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  299 

blind  chance,  any  more  than  it  was  the  Goddess.  It 
was  my  will,  my  craving  for  revenge,  that  drew  you 
here  by  a  subtle,  irresistible  magnetism.  My  will  is 
my  religion — my  god.  And  by  that  god  I  have  sworn 
that  you  shall  not  escape  me.  Ah,"  he  broke  off, 
speaking  calmly,  as  wild  yells  broke  from  the  now 
frenzied  crowd  outside,  "they  are  bringing  Mrs.  Cres- 
pin." 

For  a  moment  Traherne  shielded  his  eyes  with  his 
hands,  they  were  trembling,  then  he  mastered  himself 
— and  looked. 

A  priest  was  unbolting  the  door  through  which  they 
had  carried  him,  and  when  it  was  opened  wide,  as  he 
had  been  brought,  she  was  brought,  through  the  door, 
into  the  grim,  dark  hall. 

But  she  had  come  in  more  state.  Her  chair  was 
rich  and  gilded,  and  cushioned.  She  too  was  bound, 
but  the  thongs  that  roped  her  were  lightly  twisted 
flowers — the  rarest  blooms  of  the  palace  gardens  and 
glass. 

The  woman's  face  was  white  and  fixed,  but  her 
glowing  eyes  were  brave. 

The  Raja  went  to  her  at  once,  and  bent  as  he  said, 
"I  apologize,  Madam,  for  the  manners  of  my  people. 
Their  fanaticism  is  beyond  my  control." 

She  met  his  eyes,  but  she  did  not  speak. 

At  a  word  from  him  her  chair  was  lowered  steadily 
to  the  ground.  And  the  Raja  did  not  intervene  when 
Traherne  held  out  his  hand  to  steady  her  as  she  stepped 
from  the  palanquin — but  as  the  European  hands  met 
he  smiled. 

"How  long  have  we  left?"  Traherne  asked,  as  the 
men  were  taking  the  empty  palanquin  away. 


300  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Rukh  answered  at  once,  "Till  the  sun's  rim  touches 
the  crest  of  the  mountains.  A  blast  of  our  great 
mountain-horn  will  announce  the  appointed  hour,  and 
you  will  be  led  out  to  the  sacred  enclosure.  You  saw 
the  colossal  image  of  the  Goddess  out  yonder?"  he 
pointed  behind  him. 

As  the  chair-carriers  had  borne  the  Englishwoman 
in,  four  priests — it  had  needed  four — had  pulled  aside 
the  heavy  tapestries  at  the  hall's  far  end.  Beyond  the 
opening  two  broad  steps  led  to  a  wide  tribune  or  bal 
cony.  Over  the  balustrade  that  backed  it  loomed,  some 
fifty  yards  away,  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  colossal 
image  of  the  Green  Goddess.  On  the  tribune  itself 
was,  on  a  dais  of  two  steps,  a  wide,  gorgeous  and  fan 
tastic  throne  formed  of  barbaric  filigrees,  enormous  ele 
phants'  tusks  heavily  jeweled,  great  writhing  gold  and 
silver  snakes  with  grinning  monkey  heads,  and  far- 
spread  tails  of  gem-made  peacocks'  feathers.  The 
throne-seat  itself  was  low  and  cushioned,  not  much 
more  than  a  great,  wide  cushion,  with  other  cushions 
for  arms;  and  for  back — it  had  no  other — another 
figure  of  the  Goddess  carved  in  high  relief,  with  bar 
baric  traceries  about  her,  behind  her,  and  on  her  robes. 
From  great,  flat  brow  to  square,  rectangular  feet  she 
was  green — a  violent,  virulent,  hideous  green — but  in 
her  great,  rough-hewn  ornaments,  her  massive  crown 
and  in  the  squirmed  and  unsymmetrical  traceries  there 
were  touches  of  gold — wide  daubs  and  swathes  some, 
some  but  glimmering  hair-lines.  A  low  brazier  rested 
on  the  ground  fronting  the  throne,  and  an  acrid  odor 
came  from  the  light  green  smoke  that  curled  up  from 
the  brazier. 

Traherne  barely  glanced  to  where  the  Raja  pointed. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  301 

The  woman  neither  turned  her  head  nor  moved  her 
eyes — they  did  not  leave  Traherne's  face. 

"Will  you  grant  us  one  last  request?"  the  English 
man  asked. 

"By  all  means/'  was  the  native's  instant,  suave  reply, 
"if  it  is  my  power.  In  spite  of  your  inconsiderate 
action  of  yesterday — " 

"Inconsiderate — ?"  Traherne  blurted. 

"Watkins,  you  know — poor  Watkins — a  great  loss 
to  me!  But  a  la  guerre  comme  a  la  guerre!  I  bear 
no  malice  for  a  fair  act  of  war.  I  am  anxious  to  show 
you  every  consideration."  He  spoke  to  Dr.  Traherne, 
but  he  included  Mrs.  Crespin  by  a  deferential  gesture, 
and  his  tone  was  for  her. 

"Then,"  Traherne  said  quickly  and  earnestly,  "you 
will  leave  us  alone  for  the  time  that  remains  to  us?" 

"Why,  by  all  means,"  Rukh  returned  as  quickly. 
"And  oh,  by  the  way,  you  need  have  no  fear  of  the 
— ceremony — being  protracted.  It  will  be  brief  and 
— I  trust — painless.  The  High  Church  Party  are  not 
incapable  of  cruelty ;  but  I  have  resolutely  set  my  face 
against  it." 

He  paused  a  moment,  irresolute,  debating  with  him 
self.  Then  he  quietly  stepped  close  to  Lucilla  Crespin. 
She  had  stood  gazing  stonily  into  space  while  he  and 
Traherne  had  been  speaking,  and  she  stood  so  still, 
took  no  notice  of  him  as  he  came  to  her,  none  when  he 
spoke  to  her. 

"Before  I  go,  Madam,"  he  said,  "may  I  remind  you 
of  my  offer  of  yesterday?  It  is  not  too  late."  She 
took  no  notice.  "Is  it  just  to  your  children  to  refuse?" 
he  urged.  Traherne  saw  her  hands  tremble,  and  she 
looked  in  Rukh's  eyes,  meeting  them  with  a  look  of 


302  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

stone.  But  she  did  not  speak,  and  her  fixed  and  rigid 
face  gave  no  sign — only  her  hard,  cold  eyes  looked  his 
through. 

Rukh  looked  back  into  hers,  and  waited. 

Still  she  gave  no  sign. 

"Immovable?"  he  said  at  last.  "So  be  it!"  And 
he  turned  to  go.  But  a  great  yell  of  triumphant  hatred 
weltered  up  from  the  waiting  people  outside — such 
clamor  and  frenzy  as  they  had  not  uttered  yet — and  the 
Raja  turned  back,  and  spoke  to  her  once  more. 

''Your  husband's  body,  Madam,"  he  told  her,  watch 
ing  her  narrowly.  "They  are  laying  it  at  the  feet  of 
the  Goddess." 

He  had  moved  the  Englishwoman  at  last. 

"You  promised  me — "  she  began,  and  her  voice  and 
her  face  shook. 

"That  it  should  be  burnt,"  Rukh  assented.  "I  will 
keep  my  promise.  For  a  white  foe's  body  to  lie  at 
the  foot  of  an  Asian  god,  honors  not  dishonors  it !  I 
regret,  if  it  pains  you.  But,  you  see,  I  had  three 
brothers — a  head  for  a  head."  He  bowed  slightly 
and  passed  slowly  into  the  inner  chamber  from  which 
he  had  come,  and  his  priests,  waiting  till  now  by  the 
curtains  before  the  throne,  clustered  about  him,  and 
followed  him. 

But  a  guard  remained.  He  waited  by  the  now  re- 
bolted  door  they  had  been  carried  through ;  he  took  no 
step  towards  them — but  he  watched. 

Lucilla  sank  down  on  the  broad  base  of  a  pillar — 
her  legs  were  trembling,  and  her  heart  felt  queer  and 
sick. 

Traherne  could  not  speak  to  her  yet. 

"So  this  is  the  end !"  she  said  in  a  hard,  toneless 
voice.  She  was  not  dressed  for  sacrifice — Rukh's 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  303 

orders  had  spared  her  that — and  she  waited  her  butch 
ery  in  the  tweed  in  which  she  had  landed. 

"What  offer  did  that  devil  make  you?"  he  asked 
through  stiffened  lips. 

"Oh,"  she  replied  after  a  moment,  "I  didn't  mean 
to  tell  you,  but  I  may  as  well.  He  is  an  ingenious  tor 
mentor,"  she  said  with  a  pitiful  shrug.  "He  offered 
yesterday  to  let  me  live,  and  to  kidnap  the  children, 
and  bring  them  here  to  me — you  know  on  what  terms." 

"To  bring  the  children  here?"  Dr.  Traherne  said 
oddly,  his  eyes  scanning  her  wonderingly,  his  hands 
crunched  together. 

"He  said,"  she  went  on,  and  her  voice  broke  on  her 
words  a  little,  "in  a  month  I  might  have  them  in  my 
arms.  Think  of  it!  Ronny  and  Iris  in  my  arms!" 

Traherne  turned  away  from  her,  as  she  crouched 
huddled  and  broken  in  her  grief  and  hunger. 

He  could  not  look  at  her. 

He  stood  so  for  some  time — his  back  to  her. 

The  populace  screamed  and  shrieked.  They  did 
not  hear  them. 

At  last,  still  his  back  to  her,  Dr.  Traherne  said  in 
a  low  and  unsteady  voice,  "Are  you  sure  you  did  right 
to  refuse?" 


CHAPTER  XLII 

ALL  through  the  last  night's  torture  it  had  been  his 
fear  and  his  agony  that,  if  no  help  came  to  them, 
she  might  not  die.  Until  now — here  in  the  very  pres 
ence  of  their  impending  murder,  his  and  hers,  he  had 
doubted  that  the  Raja  of  Rukh  would  not  accomplish 
by  absolute  force  the  purpose  which  he,  Traherne,  per 
fectly  understood.  But  now,  the  death-preparations 
seemed  too  complete,  the  death-stroke  too  near,  and  he 
was  convinced  that  as  the  sun  sank  to  the  Himalayan 
crests  that  head,  bent  in  agony  in  an  English  mother's 
trembling  grief  as  he'd  turned  away  from  the  sight 
of  her,  would  roll  in  the  dirt — between  his  and  the 
severed  head  of  Crespin's  corpse — at  the  feet  of  that 
monstrous  idol  out  there,  while  the  demonized  people 
danced  and  shrieked  about  it — spat  on  it  perhaps. 

Should  she  let  it  come  to  that? 

Was  the  price  she  must  pay  for  life,  ultimate  escape 
to  come  after  a  time,  perhaps,  hideous,  unspeakable  as 
it  was,  not  a  price  she  ought  to  pay?  Would  not  her 
very  abhorrence  of  it  make  it  clean,  a  sacrificial  holiness 
rather  than  defilement? 

It  was  a  terrible  question. 

Could  he  answer  it?  Had  he  any  right  to  bid  her 
die,  to  let  her  die  without  strong  protest  from  him, 
when  she  had  even  this  chance  of  escape? 

Up  there  in  the  beetling,  brooding  palace  of  Rukh, 
in  her  prison  chamber,  in  the  tortured  night,  Lucilla 
Crespin  had  faced  that  question,  had  canvassed  it,  had 

304 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  305 

tried  to  weigh  it  sanely.  And  there  alone  with  her 
own  soul  and  her  God,  while  the  song  and  laughter 
of  those  who  sharpened  the  swords  and  decked  the 
place  of  slaughter  came  to  her  through  the  night,  she 
had  answered  it. 

She  had  answered  it  nobly.  She  had  answered  it 
in  the  only  way  that  such  an  Englishwoman  as  she — 
her  father's  child  and  her  mother's — could  answer  it 
perhaps. 

But  was  that  noble,  womanly  answer  the  noblest? 

She  had  answered  it — in  her  only  way. 

Basil  Traherne  was  trying  to  answer  it  now. 

His  soul  writhed,  his  very  flesh,  so  soon  to  be  noth 
ing,  ached  with  the  pain  and  difficulty  of  answering  the 
nearly  unanswerable,  loathsome,  hideous  question. 

Standing  here,  dying  even  now,  for  help  would  have 
come  long  hours  ago,  if  Crespin's  call  had  gone 
through,  hearing  again  the  horrible  calls  and  shouts  of 
the  maddened  throng  out  there,  hearing  the  woman 
here  with  him  moaning  for  her  children,  the  question 
of  right  and  wrong,  of  best  or  worst  for  her  and  for 
her  fatherless  children,  beat  at  him  like  a  flail  of  white- 
hot  metal.  And  the  thought  of  the  white  body  he 
loved  tortured  and  mangled  out  there — now — almost 
now — weighted  his  reasoning.  It  must.  It  must 
have  done  that. 

He  could  not  decide !     He  did  not  see. 

"Are  you  sure  you  did  right  to  refuse?"  he  repeated, 
and  sweat  colder  than  death  broke  on  his  face. 

"Do  you  mean — ?"  the  woman  asked. 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  not  wrong  to  refuse?"  he  asked 
almost  harshly. 

"Oh,"  the  tortured,  cowering  woman  cried,  "how 
can  you — ?  Right?  Wrong?  What  are  right  and 


306  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

wrong  to  me  now?"  she  sobbed.  "If  I  could  see  my 
children  again,  would  any  scruple  of  'right'  or  'wrong' 
make  me  shrink  from  anything  that  was  possible?" 
she  asked  passionately.  "But  this  is  so  utterly,  utterly 
impossible." 

He  turned  and  went  to  her  then.  "Forgive  me,"  he 
begged.  "You  know  it  would  add  an  unspeakable 
horror  to  death,  if  I  had  to  leave  you  here.  But  I  felt 
I  must  ask  you  whether  you  had  fully  considered — " 

"I  have  thought  of  nothing  else  through  all  these  tor 
turing  hours,"  she  told  him  gravely. 

"How  brave  you  are!"  he  said  in  a  choked  voice. 
But  his  eyes  were  very  proud. 

"Not  brave,  not  brave,"  she  moaned.  "If  I  could 
live,  I  would — there,  I  confess  it!  But  I  should  die 
of  shame  and  misery,  and  leave  my  children — to  that 
man.  Or,  if  I  did  live,  what  sort  of  a  mother  should 
I  be  to  them?  They  would  be  much  better  without 
me!  Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "my  precious,  precious  dar 
lings!"  She  clasped  her  arms  across  her  breast,  and 
rocked  herself  in  agony. 

The  moments  passed. 

The  slow  sinking  sun  streaked  its  red  warning 
through  the  clerestory  slits. 

"Lucilla !"     He  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Oh,  Basil,"  she  looked  up  at  him,  "say  you  think 
it  won't  be  altogether  bad  for  them !  They  will  never 
know  anything  of  their  father  now  but  what  was  good. 
And  their  mother  will  simply  have  vanished  into  the 
skies.  They  will  think  she  has  flown  away  to  heaven 
— and  who  knows  but  it  may  be  true?  There  may  be 
something  beyond  this  hell." 

"We  shall  soon  know,  Lucilla,"  he  answered  gently. 

"But  to  go  away  and  leave  them  without  a  word — !" 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  307 

she  moaned  again.  "Poor  little  things,  poor  little 
things!" 

"They  will  remember  you  as  something  very  dear 
and  beautiful,"  he  said,  as  he  knelt  down  beside  her, 
and  gathered  her  hands  into  his.  "The  very  mystery 
will  be  like  a  halo  about  you." 

"Shall  I  see  them  again,  Basil  ?"  she  moaned.  "Tell 
me  that." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

Then,  "Who  knows  ?"  the  man  said  gravely.  "Even 
to  comfort  you,  I  won't  say  I  am  certain.  But  I  do 
sincerely  think  you  may." 

"You  think,"  she  asked  with  a  woeful  smile,  "there 
is  a  sporting  chance?" 

"More  than  that,"  was  Traherne's  emphatic  reply. 
"This  life  is  such  a  miracle — could  any  other  be  more 
incredible  ?" 

"But  even  if  I  should  meet  them  in  another  world," 
she  mourned,  "they  would  not  be  my  Ronny  and  Iris, 
but  a  strange  man  and  a  strange  woman,  built  up  of 
experiences  in  which  I  had  had  no  share.  Oh,  it  was 
cunning,  cunning,  what  that  devil  said  to  me!  He  said, 
'God  Himself  cannot  give  you  back  their  childhood.' ' 

"How  do  you  know  that  God  is  going  to  take  their 
childhood  from  you  ?"  he  comforted  her  quickly.  "You 
may  be  with  them  this  very  night — with  them,  unseen, 
but  perhaps  not  unfelt,  all  the  days  of  their  life." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly.  "You  are  saying  that  to 
make  what  poor  Antony  called  a  'haze'  for  me — to 
soften  the  horror  of  darkness  that  is  waiting  for  us. 
Don't  give  me  'dope,'  Basil — I  can  face  things  without 
it." 

"I  mean  every  word  of  it,"  the  man  said  stoutly. 

They  kept  silence  a  little  then. 


308  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  man  almost  wished  that  the  summons  would 
come. 

Suddenly  Lucilla  Crespin  smiled  a  little. 

"Why,"  he  asked  incredulously,  "do  you  smile?" 

"At  a  thought  that  came  to  me,"  she  told  him ;  "the 
thought  of  poor  Antony  as  a  filmy  and  purified  spirit. 
It  seems  so  unthinkable !" 

Traherne — even  here- — wished  she  had  not  said  it. 
But  he  always  had  been  fairer  to  Antony  Crespin  than, 
for  years,  the  disillusioned  wife  had  been  able  to  be. 
"Why  unthinkable?"  he  argued.  "Why  may  he  not 
still  exist,  though  he  has  left  behind  him  the  nerves, 
the  cravings,  that  tormented  him — and  you.  You 
have  often,"  he  reminded  her  gently,  "told  me  that 
there  was  something  fine  in  the  depths  of  his  nature. 
I  have  always  known  it.  And  you  know  how  he 
showed  it  yesterday." 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  tell  the  children  how  he  died!" 
Lucilla  exclaimed  longingly. 

"But,"  Traherne  said  sadly,  "his  true  self  was  hope 
lessly  out  of  gear.  The  chain  is  broken,  the  machine 
lies  out  there — scrapped.  Do  you  think  that  he  was 
just  that  machine,  and  nothing  else?  7  tell  you,  No!" 

"But  I  don't  know,"  she  said  drearily.  "Anyway, 
Basil: — if  Antony  leaves  his — failings,  you  must  leave 
behind  your  work.  Do  you  want  another  life  in  which 
there  is  no  work  for  you  to  do — no  disease  to  be  rooted 
out?  Don't  tell  me  you  don't  long  to  take  your 
microscope  with  you  wherever  you  may  be  going." 

"Perhaps  there  are  microscopes  waiting  me  there," 
Traherne  said  slowly. 

"Spirit  microscopes  for  spirit  microbes?  You  don't 
believe  that,  Basil." 

"I  neither  believe  nor  disbelieve,"  he  told  her.     "In 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  309 

all  we  can  say  of  another  life  we  are  like  children 
blind  from  birth,  trying  to  picture  the  form  and  colors 
of  the  rainbow." 

"If,"  she  persisted  sadly,  "we  are  freed  from  all 
human  selfishness,  shall  I  love  my  children  more  than 
any  other  woman's  ?  Can  I  love  a  child  I  cannot  kiss, 
that  cannot  look  into  my  eyes,  and  kiss  me  back 
again?" 

"Oh,"  he  cried  roughly,  springing  up  as  he  spoke, 
"Lucilla,  don't!  Don't  remind  me  of  all  we  are  los 
ing!  I  meant  to  leave  it  all  unspoken — the  thought 
of  him  lying  out  there  seemed  to  tie  my  tongue.  But 
we  have  only  one  moment  on  this  side  of  eternity. 
Lucilla,  shall  I  go  on?" 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

"OHALL  I  goon?" 

^  He  waited  for  her  to  say. 

After  an  instant's  pause,  she  bowed  her  head. 

"Do  you  think,"  he  cried,  "it  is  with  a  light  heart 
that  I  turn  my  back  upon  the  life  of  earth,  and  all  it 
might  have  meant  for  you  and  me — for  you  and  me, 
Lucilla?" 

"Yes,"  the  woman  whispered,  "Basil,  for  you  and 
me." 

He  reached  down  his  hands,  and  she  rose,  letting 
him  help  her,  and  stood  beside  him. 

"Rather  than  live  without  you,"  he  told  her,  "I  am 
glad  to  die  with  you;  but,  oh,  what  a  wretched  glad 
ness  compared  with  that  of  living  with  you,  and  loving 
you !  I  wonder  if  you  have  guessed  what  it  has  meant 
to  me,  ever  since  we  met  at  Dehra  Dun,  to  see  you  as 
another  man's  wife?  It  has  been  hell — hell!" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  know,  Basil.  I  have  known 
from  the  beginning." 

"Oh,  what  do  I  care,"  he  cried  passionately,  "for  a 
bloodless,  shadowy  life — life  in  the  abstract,  with  all 
the  senses  extinct?  Better  eternal  sleep!" 

"Oh,  Basil,"  the  woman  said,  "you  are  going  back 
on  your  own  wisdom.  Shall  we  not  there — where  we 
are  going — " 

"Wisdom !"  he  exclaimed  with  hot  contempt.  "What 
has  wisdom  to  say  to  love,  thwarted  and  unfulfilled? 
You  were  right  when  you  said  that  it  is  a  mockery  to 

310 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  311 

speak  of  love  without  hands  to  clasp,  without  lips  to 
kiss." 

"I,  too,"  the  woman  owned,  "regret — perhaps  as 
much  as  you — that  things  were — as  they  were.  But 
not  even  your  love — " 

A  trumpet-blast  interrupted  her — a  long,  deep,  wail 
ing  sound.  And  out  in  the  open  behind  the  temple 
a  pheasant  rocketed  up,  with  a  scream  of  fright. 

"There  is  the  signal!"  Lucilla  whispered — not  with 
out  a  shudder.  "Good-bye,  dear  love." 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  him.  He  drew  her  rev 
erently  into  his  arms,  and  bent  a  passionate,  quivering 
face  to  hers.  And  so,  they  who  were  about  to  die, 
gave  and  took  their  first  kiss.  Lips  lingered  on  lips, 
flesh  clung  to  flesh.  Neither  spoke  again — but  telling 
each  other  more  than  words  could  say.  They  needed 
no  words  now,  and  they  had  none. 

A  crash  of  tom-toms  and  a  low  muttered  chant  came 
from  behind  the  curtains  through  which  the  Raja  had 
gone  when  he'd  left  them.  A  moment  they  clung  the 
closer,  then  slowly  and  proudly  drew  the  little  apart 
that  English  dignity  bade,  and  stood  hand-in-hand 
facing  the  doorway  as  its  curtains  parted,  and  the 
death  processional  came  in,  moved  upon  them. 

"Basil,"  she  whispered,  and  he  caught  what  she  said, 
though  her  lips  scarcely  moved,  "kill  me,  kill  me 
now !" 

"Dear,"  he  whispered,  "I  have  nothing — " 

"Your  hands !"  she  said.     "Your  hands  are  strong!" 

Could  he?  he  asked  himself.  He  looked  with 
stricken  eyes  at  her  pulsing  throat.  Could  he?  It 
must  be  done  quickly,  if  done.  They  would  over 
power  him  at  the  first  uplift  of  his  hand.  Why  had 
he  not  thought  of  it  before,  while  yet  there'd  been 


312  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

time,  when  still  they'd  been  here  alone?  Fool! 
Wicked  fool!  But  to  have  shortened  so  the  short, 
short  space  of  their  love's  fulfilment!  It  would  have 
been  hard. 

"Not  yet — "  he  murmured.  And  he  knew  he  would 
attempt  it  presently — at  the  last,  last  breath  of  moment 
left  them. 

Priests  came  first,  chanting  as  they  came,  fantas 
tically  dressed,  and  each  wearing  some  indescribable 
demon,  high  up-standing  head-dress.  Except  the  High 
Priest  all  were  masked — the  masks  impossible,  mon 
strous  devils  and  animals.  After  them  the  Raja  of 
Rukh  came,  walking,  with  folded  arms,  alone.  He 
also  wore  now  a  priestly  head-dress,  richer,  even  more 
grotesque  than  theirs,  and  a  stole-like  garment,  and 
one  shaped  like  a  cope,  each  a  glittering  jewel-mass. 
The  long,  flat,  scarf-like,  wide  strip  of  fur,  brocade 
and  jewels  that  fell  from  either  side  from  over  his 
shoulders  down  to  his  ankles  looked  something  a  stole, 
the  azure  arabesqued  drapery  below  it  looked  some 
thing  a  cope — so  oddly,  in  surface  things,  do  East 
and  West  often  show  to  touch. 

Behind  him,  walking  abreast,  came  three  dark-robed, 
sinister  figures,  plainly  masked  and  hooded,  carrying 
heavy,  shining  swords.  They  were  the  proudest  men 
in  Rukh  to-day,  for  by  right  of  their  office  well-per 
formed  each  would  claim,  and  be  accorded,  privilege 
to  send  a  girl-child  to  the  Rukh's  harem.  Out  there 
close  by  the  great  waiting  Goddess,  close  to  the  spot 
where  the  swords  would  swing  and  hack  at  the  white 
offered  necks,  the  three  little  girls  stood  side  by  side 
dressed  in  the  saffron-edged  magenta  of  brides,  their 
dark  little  faces  golden  and  shining  with  joy,  each 
eyeing  the  other  two  rather  scornfully. 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  313 

After  the  executioners  followed  musicians — in  splen 
did,  more  secular  motley,  their  cheeks  puffed  out 
mump-like  with  the  exertion  that  blew  weird  notes 
through  Rukh's  weird  sacred  reed  and  bamboo  instru 
ments. 

When  they  reached  it  the  priests  grouped  themselves 
about  the  throne,  salaaming  to  it  twice,  thrice  to  the 
Goddess  that  backed  it. 

Rukh  paused  an  instant  at  the  prisoners.  "May  I 
trouble  you  to  move  a  little  aside?"  he  asked  with  in 
solent  civility.  "I  am,  for  the  moment,  not  a  king, 
but  a  priest,  and  must  observe  a  certain  holy  dignity. 
Ridiculous,  isn't  it?" 

They  made  way  for  him — but  still  the  man  held 
close  in  his  own  the  woman's  hand.  And  her  fingers 
clung  to  his  like  twisted,  writhed  icicles  now. 

He  passed  slowly  on  to  the  throne  and,  to  a  re 
iterated  salvo  of  priestly  salaams  and  of  shrilled  flutes, 
took  his  seat. 

The  people  screamed  and  moaned  with  delight  and 
loyalty. 

Rukh  spoke  again  to  the  woman  standing  there  wait 
ing  with  her  hand  still  in  her  lover's.  Traherne  was 
trembling  almost  violently  now,  Lucilla  Crespin  was 
perfectly  still. 

"Must  I  do  violence  to  my  feelings,  Madam,"  the 
Raja-priest  said,  "by  including  you  in  the  approaching 
ceremony?  There  is  still  time." 

She  took  no  other  notice,  but  she  met  his  eyes. 

"We  autocrats,"  he  added,  "are  badly  brought  up. 
We  are  not  accustomed  to  having  our  desires,  or  even 
our  whims  thwarted." 

"Will  you  never  cease  tormenting  this  lady?"  Tra 
herne  cut  in  violently.  "Get  on  with  your  butchery!" 


314  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

The  Raja  paid  as  little  attention  to  Traherne  as  the 
Englishwoman  had  paid  to  the  Raja. 

"Remember  my  power,"  Rukh  continued.  "If  I 
may  not  take  you  back  to  my  palace  as  my  queen,  I 
can  send  you  back  as  my  slave.  .  .  .  Have  you  noth 
ing  to  say?  ...  I  repeat  my  offer  as  to  your  chil 
dren.  .  .  .  Remember,  too,  that,  if  I  so  will  it,  you 
cannot  save  them  by  dying.  I  can  have  them  kid 
napped — or — I  can  have  them  killed." 

She  answered  him  then — with  a  wild,  anguished 
shriek. 

An  Englishman's  endurance  snapped.  He  threw 
Lucilla's  poor,  cold  hands  from  his,  and  with  an  en- 
fiended  cry  of,  "Devil,"  rushed  on  the  throne,  and 
leapt  at  the  Raja's  diamond-circled  throat;  did  it  so 
suddenly,  so  quickly  that  before  the  startled  priests 
could  gather  their  bemazed  wits  he  had  pinned  the 
Raja  against  the  back  of  his  throne. 

But  instantly  then  the  huddled  priests  flung  on  Tra 
herne,  pulled  him  off — he  was  one,  they  were  more 
than  a  score — pinioned  him  roughly,  and  dragged  him 
struggling  away. 

Fast  and  furiously  the  priests  chattered  together,  and 
the  Chief  Priest  prostrated  himself  in  hot  supplication 
before  the  throne  where  the  Raja  sat  coldly  smiling. 
He  heard  the  Chief  Priest  gravely,  then  rose  and  passed 
him  with  a  word — pressed  through  the  priests 
thronged  near  the  throne,  they  striving  to  dissuade 
him,  and  went  to  Traherne,  whom  several  of  the  priests 
who  had  seized  him  still  held  securely. 

"Chivalrous  but  ill-advised,  Dr.  Traherne,"  the  Raja 
remarked.  "I  regret  it,  and  so  will  you.  My  col 
leagues  here  insist  that,  as  you  have  laid  impious  hands 
on  the  chief  of  their  sacred  caste,  your  death  alone  will 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  315 

not  appease  the  fury  of  the  Goddess.  They  insist 
upon  subjecting  you  to  a  process  of  expiation — a  ritual 
of  great  antiquity — but — "  He  broke  off  significantly. 

"You  mean  torture?"     Traherne  spoke  calmly. 

"Well — yes,"  Rukh  admitted  regretfully. 

Lucilla  Crespin  came  towards  them  with  a  cry, 

"Not  you,  Madam — not  you — " 

"I  must  speak  to  you — speak  to  you  alone!"  she 
gasped.  "Send  Dr.  Traherne  away." 

Rukh  looked  at  her  searchingly. 

Traherne  understood  her.  "Lucilla !"  he  exclaimed, 
entreaty  and  command  in  his  tone.  "What  are  you 
thinking  of!  Lucilla — !" 

At  a  gesture  from  the  Raja,  the  priests  who  were 
guarding  Traherne  bent  over  him,  and  he  crumpled  up 
like  a  storm-buffeted  autumn  leaf,  and  his  voice  trailed 
weakly,  then  died  away.  Japanese  ju-jutsu  is  a  thing 
of  feather,  and  slow  and  uncertain  compared  to  the 
brutal  knack  that  these  temple  priests  had  practiced  on 
Basil  Traherne.  Their  theology  may  have  been  as 
rotten  and  flabby  as  it  was  absurd  and  fanatic,  but 
their  athletic  skill  and  their  fighting  knowledge  of 
human  anatomy  were  fine. 

"I  beg  you — I  beg  you !"  the  woman  implored  brok 
enly,  wildly.  "One  minute — no  more !" 

Rukh  looked  at  her  curiously,  studying  her  search 
ingly,  for  a  moment — a  sharp  gleam  in  his  narrowed 
eyes — shrugged  his  cope-covered  shoulders,  and  gave  a 
terse  order,  and  Traherne,  inert  and  almost  uncon 
scious,  was  dragged  away,  and  out  through  the  door 
through  which  he  had  been  carried  into  the  temple  hall. 

In  her  desperation  the  woman  had  rushed  up  the 
steps  of  the  throne.  Now  in  her  exhaustion  she  sank 
down  on  one  end  of  the  actual  throne  itself — sharing 


316  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

it  crushed  and  abjectly  with  him — the  broken  suppliant 
of  an  absolute  king. 

Rukh  was  watching  her  narrowly  with  a  serpent- 
look  in  passion-full  eyes.  He  held  his  silence — and 
waited. 

"Let  him  go,"  she  panted,  when  she  could  speak,  "let 
him  go,  send  him  back  to  India  unharmed,  and — it 
shall  be  as  you  wish," 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

OUTSIDE  the  waiting  people  were  eating  oily 
sweetmeats  and  greasier  cakes  and  water-lily 
seeds,  drinkly  sickly  fermented  goats'  milk,  and  watch 
ing  now  sacred  snakes  tearing  living  birds  to  bleeding 
pieces — a  priest-granted  sight  both  to  whet  and  hold 
in  leash  their  maddened  blood-thirst  for  the  greater 
slaughter  to  come — so  soon  to  come  now ;  for  the  sun 
had  not  ceased  to  sink;  and  here  in  the  dark,  terrible 
hall  the  tawny  prince  in  gauds  of  satins  and  gems, 
and  the  white-skinned  woman  in  a  plain  tweed  gown, 
bartered  and  played  for  a  man's  life,  a  woman's  soul 
and  body.  A  Raja  staked  a  whim  and  a  lust,  an 
Englishwoman  staked  her  all. 

They  staked  and  threw. 

And  the  sun  sank  lower. 

"Soho!"  Rukh  said  at  last,  all  the  kindness  real  or 
assumed  gone  from  his  voice,  the  wicked  light  of  a 
primitive,  angry  feeling  disfiguring  his  eyes,  "you  will 
do  for  your  lover — to  save  him  a  little  additional  pain 
— what  you  would  not  do  to  have  your  children  re 
stored  to  you!  Suppose  I  agree — would  he  accept 
this  sacrifice?" 

"No,"  the  woman  said  quickly,  "no,  he  wouldn't — 
but  he  must  have  no  choice.  That  is  part  of  the  bar 
gain.  Send  him — bound  hand  and  foot,  if  need  be — 
down  to  Kashmir,  and  put  him  over  the  frontier — " 

"You  don't  care  what  he  thinks  of  you?"  Rukh 

broke  in. 

317 


318  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"He  will  know  what  to  think,"  the  woman  said. 

"And  I  too,  Madam,"  Rukh  retorted  with  a  short, 
ugly  laugh,  "know  what  to  think."  Kneeling — there 
was  nothing  of  supplication  about  it — with  one  knee 
on  the  throne,  he  caught  her  shoulders  in  his  delicate, 
sinewy  olive  hands,  and  turned  her  face  to  him. 
"Come,  look  me  in  the  eyes,"  he  ordered,  "and  tell  me 
that  you  honestly  intend  to  fulfill  your  bargain!  .  .  . 
I  knew  it !"  For  her  eyes  had  flinched.  "You  are  play 
ing  with  me!  But  the  confiding  barbarian  is  not  so 
simple  as  you  imagine.  No  woman  has  ever  tried  to 
fool  me  that  has  not  repented  it.  You  think,  when  you 
have  to  pay  up,  you  will  fob  me  off  with  your  dead 
body.  Let  me  tell  you,  I  have  no  use  for  you  dead — 
I  want  you  with  all  the  blood  in  your  veins,  with  all 
the  pride  in  that  damned  sly  brain  of  yours.  I  want 
to  make  my  plaything  of  your  beauty,  my  mockery  of 
your  pride.  I  want  to  strip  off  the  delicate  English' 
lady,  and  come  down  to  the  elemental  woman,  the  hand 
maid  and  the  instrument  of  man."  His  passion  had 
risen  higher  and  higher  with  the  words  he'd  fed  it, 
and  his  now  wide  open  eyes  glowed  like  the  eyes  of 
a  brute.  The  woman  crouching  there  at  the  side  of 
the  barbaric  throne,  clutching  it  desperately  for  the 
support  she  desperately  needed,  looked  at  him  dumbly 
and  numb,  her  terror-stricken  and  fascinated  eyes  like 
those  of  some  forest  youngling  the  snake  is  poised  to 
strike — powerless  to  move,  powerless  even  to  cry. 

His  tone  changed,  his  voice  fell  a  note.  "Come  now, 
I'll  make  you  a  plain  offer.  I  will  put  Dr.  Traherne 
over  the  frontier,  and,  as  they  set  him  free,  my  people 
shall  hand  him  a  letter  written  by  you  at  my  dictation. 
You  will  tell  him  that  you  nave  determined  to  accept 
my  protection  and  make  this  your  home."  She  bowed 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  319 

her  head  in  bitter  acquiescence.  "Consequently  you 
wish  to  have  your  children  conveyed  to  you  here — " 

"Never — never — never!"  She  pelted  it  at  him,  her 
pallid  face  set  and  fixed,  her  dazed  numbed  eyes  alight 
again,  her  broken  body  tense  again.  "I  will  make  no 
bargain  that  involves  my  children." 

"You  see!"  Rukh  laughed — a  fiendish,  ugly  laugh. 
"You  will  give  me  no  hostages  for  the  fulfillment  of 
your  bond.  But  a  pledge  of  your  good  faith  I  must 
have.  For  without  a  pledge,  Madam,  I  don't  believe  in 
it  one  little  bit."  And  as  he  paused  he  snapped  his 
fingers  delicately. 

"What  pledge?"  she  asked  desperately. 

"Only  one  is  left — Dr.  Traherne  himself,"  the  Raja 
told  her.  "I  may — though  it  will  strain  my  power  to 
the  uttermost — save  his  life,  while  keeping  him  in 
prison.  Then,  when  you  have  fulfilled  your  bond — ful 
filled  it  to  the  uttermost,  mark  you! — when  you  have 
borne  me  a  child — I  will  let  him  go  free.  But  the 
moment  you  attempt  to  evade  your  pledge,  by  death 
or  escape,  I  will  hand  him  over  to  the  priests  to  work 
their  will  with,  and  I  will  put  no  restraint  upon  their 
savage  instincts." 

There  are  life-decisions  to  be  made,  that  come  to 
some,  now  and  then,  so  hideous  in  their  complexity, 
that  the  bravest  soul,  the  clearest  mind,  the  purest  heart 
must  shudder  and  sicken  at  the  insupportable  task — 
grope — hesitate — waver — faint.  Knowing  not  what  to 
do,  but  knowing  that  whatever  one's  course,  regret 
must  be  its  long,  hard  aftermath,  moral  strength  crum 
ples  up  and  is  frail  and  trembling  at  such  hideous  cross 
roads  of  conduct — and  right  and  wrong,  highest  virtue 
and  lowest  crime  seem  inextricably  mixed.  And  how 
ever  it  wrings  us,  not  one  but  must  experience  a  mea- 


320  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

sure  of  relief  and  thankfulness  when  such  terrible  de 
ciding  is  by  some  overruling  whipped  out  of  our  hands, 
and  the  befuddled  wavering  soul  is  left  intense  suffer 
ing  merely,  but  spared  responsibility  and  remorse. 

This  was  the  hardest  moment  of  Lucilla  Crespin's 
life.  She  did  not  know  how  to  decide.  She  could  not 
decide.  But  she  knew  that  she  must.  And  she  did 
have  to — there  was  no  possible  escape  for  her,  unless 
Heaven  itself  actually  and  now  peeped  "through  the 
blanket  of  the  dark"  and  threw  down  its  verdict.  And 
upon  the  woman's  deciding  of  this  must  rest  the  ulti 
mate  appraisement  of  her,  of  her  character,  and  of  the 
soundness  and  sweetness  of  her  moral  judgment.  But 
two  possible  decisions  lay  for  her  choosing.  No  more 
choice  than  that  was  offered  her.  And  by  her  decision 
between  the  terrible  two  her  claim  to  the  highest  per 
sonal  fineness,  strength  and  nobility  must  stand  or  fall. 
Either  way  could  be  taken  nobly,  and  in  self-sacrifice 
— but  one  of  the  two  led  to  the  higher  heights — one  was 
supreme. 

She  did  not  know,  as  she  cowered,  huddled  there, 
how  she  should  decide.  But  she  knew  that  in  some 
way  she  would  and  must. 

Rukh  waited  and  watched  her.  But  the  sun  was 
going,  throwing  its  last  gay  pools  of  Tuscan  gold  on 
the  hall's  dim  floor,  its  angry  pools  of  red  on  the 
courtyard,  turning  the  feet  of  the  gigantic  Green  God 
dess  to  blood. 

And  he  saw,  and  said,  "Choose,  my  dear  lady, 
choose !" 

The  moment  had  come. 

She  lifted  her  head  wearily,  clenched  tighter  on  the 
jeweled  edge  of  the  throne,  her  lips  moved  difficultly  to 
a  word.  "I  choose — " 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  321 

He  bent  nearer  to  catch  her  labored  saying,  his  dark 
Eastern  face  tense  and  keen,  his  eyes  excited,  not  un- 
anxious.  For  he  not  only  wanted  his  own  way,  but  he 
intensely  wished  to  have  it  in  his  own  way. 

"—then— to— " 

Slowly  her  eyes  left  his  face.  Her  words  did  not 
break  or  trail — they  stopped.  She  lifted  her  face  to 
wards  the  clerestory  slits,  and  listened.  She  listened — 
more  intensely  than  ever  at  Lucknow  a  woman  had 
listened — and  an  impalpable  shimmer  of  hope  dawned 
on  Mrs.  Crespin's  face. 

The  murmur  of  the  crowd  below  sounded  subdued. 
It  broke,  and  ceased. 

Were  they  listening  too? 

With  a  shriek  of  insane  excitement,  the  wild  over 
flow  of  self-control  and  despair  undammed  at  last,  the 
cowering  woman  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Aeroplanes!"  she  cried.  "The  aeroplanes!"  she 
shouted  and  laughed.  "Basil!  Basil!  The  aero 
planes  !"• 


CHAPTER  XLV 

TT  was  true. 

-*•  Out  in  the  sacred  courtyard  where  all  had  been 
babel  and  noise,  a  terrible  stillness  had  come — every 
head  thrown  back,  every  startled  black  eye  strained  to 
the  sky.  Through  the  silence — human  noise  petrified 
by  quaking  fear  of  the  unknown — came  a  faint,  but 
rapidly  increasing  whirr  and  throb,  no  more  at  first 
than  the  gossamer  sound  of  lazy  dragon-fly  wings, 
then  more  and  more,  till  the  air  reeked  with  the  high- 
up  grating  sound. 

Like  a  flight  of  dragon-flies — gray,  far  and  filmy, 
the  plane-birds  came,  then  like  a  school  of  black-bellied 
fish  with  backs  of  gold  and  rose  in  the  sunset  glow, 
then  like  some  flock  of  monster  well-trained  birds,  a 
battalion  perhaps  of  the  great  rocs  the  mazed  people 
believed  them,  nearer  and  nearer  they  came,  lower  and 
lower  they  swooped. 

Through  the  royal,  blue  blanket  of  the  Asian  sky 
England  had  peeped,  and  whatever  his  priests  and  peo 
ple  thought,  the  Raja  of  Rukh — he'd  not  altered  his 
attitude,  except  to  gaze  steadily  up,  listening  intently, 
he'd  not  let  his  face  or  his  eyes  change — knew  that 
England  swooping  puissantly  down  had  cried  to  him, 
"Hold!  Enough!" 

With  a  sob  of  relief,  repeating  again  in  a  low,  quiver 
ing  voice,  "The  aeroplanes — the  aeroplanes !"  Lucilla 
tottered  to  the  door  through  which  Traherne  had  been 
pushed.  The  priests  were  too  amazed  to  oppose  or 
stay  her,  as  his  guard  had  been  to  stay  or  oppose  Tra- 

322 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  323 

herne,  and  as  she  moved  seeking  him,  he  came  back 
seeking  her — and  they  stood  together  in  the  doorway, 
he  leaning  against  it  a  little,  still  feeling  the  flay  of  the 
fingers  that  had  crippled  him,  looking  up  to  the  sky  in 
which  their  help  had  come. 

The  crowd  found  its  voice  again.  Cries  and  squeals 
of  consternation  and  terror  came  like  a  sudden  gust  of 
storm  from  the  gathered  people. 

The  guard  outside  on  the  balcony  at  the  end  of  the 
hall  tore  aside  the  curtains  violently,  and  pointing  up 
ward  shouted  madly  to  their  prince,  and  he  moved  to 
them  slowly,  and  stood  there  looking  out — and  the 
priests  huddled,  blubbering  and  jabbering  strickenly, 
behind  him. 

"See,"  Lucilla  whispered,  "see!  They  are  circling 
lower  and  lower !  Is  it  true,  Basil  ?  Are  we  saved  ?" 

"Yes,  Lucilla,"  he  told  her,  in  a  voice  that  scarcely 
would  sound,  "we  are  saved."  He  repeated  it,  and  his 
voice  rang  through  the  place.  The  Raja  heard. 

"Oh,  thank  God !  Thank  God !"  Lucilla  moaned.  "I 
shall  see  my  babies  again!"  she  sobbed.  She  swayed, 
almost  fainting,  but  Traherne  caught  her,  and  held  her 
leaning  on  him,  as  he  leaned  on  the  portal. 

Was  their  Goddess  performing  another  great  miracle 
for  her  favored  people  ?  Were  her  great  rocs  flinging 
them  more  white  goats  to  gore  at  her  feet,  the  people 
wondered,  "Oo-ae,  Oo-ae!"  Was  it  portend  of  for 
tune  or  portend  of  doom? 

"So,"  the  Raja  said  to  the  English  woman  and  man, 
"the  Major  lied  like  a  gentleman!  Good  old  Major! 
I  didn't  think  he  had  it  in  him." 

An  excited  guard  called  his  attention  to  something, 
and  the  Raja  looked  out  again  to  where  the  man  mo 
tioned.  He  stood  watching,  looking  down  from  the 


324  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

balcony,  gave  an  order,  at  which  several  of  the  soldiers 
hurried  away,  then  turned  and  went  to  them  who  still 
were  his  prisoners.  "One  of  the  machines  has  landed," 
he  told  Traherne  casually.  "An  officer  is  coming  this 
way — he  looks  a  mere  boy." 

"The  conquerors  of  the  air  have  all  been  mere  boys," 
Dr.  Traherne  asserted. 

The  Raja  smiled.  "I  have  given  orders,"  he  said, 
"that  he  shall  be  brought  here  unharmed.  Perhaps  I 
had  better  receive  him  with  some  ceremony — " 

He  went  slowly  back  to  his  glittering  chair  of  sover 
eign  state,  sat  himself  down  on  it  cross-legged,  and 
settled  his  wonderful  robes  carefully  about  him,  com 
manded  his  priests  to,  and  they  ranged  themselves  near 
him.  And  the  Raja  wondered  if  ever  again  he'd  sit 
on  the  throne,  his  almost  from  birth,  the  throne  his 
fathers  had  sat  on  and  ruled  from  for  long  years. 
But  the  man  was  game.  Give  him  his  due. 

"You  said  just  now,  Dr.  Traherne,"  he  remarked 
after  a  moment,  "that  you  were  saved.  Are  you  so 
certain  of  that?" 

"Certain?"  Traherne  echoed.  His  inflection  was 
question,  but  even  more  it  was  retort  and  proud  asser 
tion,  and  his  tired  eyes  glowed.  And  the  woman  whose 
hand  clung  in  his  felt  the  warmth  of  his  fingers. 

"How  many  men  does  each  of  these  hummingbirds 
carry?"  Rukh  queried  skeptically. 

"Probably  two  or  three,"  Traherne  admitted,  "a  D. 
H.  10  can  carry  six  to  eight  people  but — " 

Rukh  interrupted.  "I  counted  six  planes — say  at 
the  outside  twenty  to  thirty  men.  Even  my  toy  army 
can  cope  with  that  number." 

The  clamor  outside  was  indescribable  now.  The 
Raja  translated  it  correctly,  and  gave  a  word  of  com- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  325 

mand  to  the  priest  guarding  a  door,  and  the  priest,  with 
trembling  hands  threw  it  open  wide. 

An  English  boy  sauntered  in — three  of  Rukh's  sol 
diers  half  escorting,  half  guarding  him.  A  fair,  sunny- 
faced,  blue-eyed  youngster,  trim  and  straight  in  his 
khaki-drill,  the  shoes  below  his  "slacks"  shining  like 
polished,  brown  glass,  two  stripes  on  his  epaulets,  his 
black  tie  beautifully  done,  one  yellow  wisp  of  curl  al 
most  coquettishly  peeping  from  under  his  immaculate 
service  cap,  and  an  avenue  of  ribbons  cutting  across 
his  tunic — the  blue,  white  and  yellow  of  the  G.  S.,  the 
rainbow  of  the  Victory,  the  red,  white  and  blue  of  the 
1914-15,  of  course,  but  the  white  and  purple  diagonals 
of  the  D.  F.  C.  were  there  too,  and  the  tiny  rosette 
on  the  blue,  dark-red  and  blue  of  his  D.  S.  O.  told  that 
he  had  won  it  doubly.  And  he  looked,  as  he  was,  a 
"mother's  boy"  and  no  end  of  a  wag.  Truly,  "the 
conquerors  of  the  air  have  all  been  mere  boys" ! 

"Who  are  you,  sir?"  the  Raja  demanded. 

"One  moment."  The  English  boy  threw  the  word 
crisply  over  his  shoulder  to  the  bedizened  figure  sitting 
cross-legged  and  sovereign  on  its  bedizened  throne,  and 
crossed  to  his  countryman  and  woman,  and  saluted — 
the  R.  A.  F.  do  not  uncover. 

Lucilla  held  out  both  her  hands — they  had  met  before 
at  Delhi  and  at  Simla.  She  was  afraid  to  speak,  almost 
afraid  to  look,  lest  she  welcome  him  with  a  torrent  of 
womanish  tears. 

"Mrs.  Crespin !"  the  young  pilot  said,  as  he  took  the 
hands  she  gave.  "I'm  very  glad  we're  in  time.  Dr. 
Traherne,  I  presume?  And,"  when  they  had  shaken 
hands  gravely,  "Major  Crespin?"  he  asked. 

"Shot  whilst  transmitting  our  message,"  Traherne 
told  him. 


326  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

"I'm  so  sorry,  Mrs.  Crespin,"  the  boy  said  gravely. 
"By  whom  ?"  he  demanded  of  Traherne. 

Traherne  pointed  silently  to  the  throne-seated.  Raja, 
who  was  watching  quite  impassively. 

But  Rukh  spoke  now.  "I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  drawl 
ing  his  clear  voice  lazily,  "to  interrupt  these  effusions, 
but—" 

"Who  are  you,  sir  ?"  The  English  lad's  voice  barked 
something  like  a  gun. 

"I  am  the  Raja  of  Rukh,"  the  prince  replied.  "And 
you?" 

"Flight-Lieutenant  Cardew,"  the  boy-pilot  said  for 
mally.  "I  have  the  honor  to  represent  His  Majesty,  the 
King-Emperor." 

Rukh  looked  uninterested.  "The  King-Emperor? 
Who  is  that,  pray?  We  live  so  out  of  the  world  here, 
I  don't  seem  to  have  heard  of  him,"  he  lied. 

"You  will  in  a  minute,  Raja,"  the  youth  muttered 
back,  "if  you  don't  instantly  hand  over  his  subjects." 

"His  subjects?"  The  Raja  seemed  puzzled.  "Ah," 
he  exclaimed  not  unindifferently,  but  as  if  a  light  had 
broken  in,  "I  see  you  mean  the  King  of  England. 
What  terms  does  His  Majesty  propose?" 

"We  make  no  terms  with  cut-throats,"  Cardew 
snapped.  "If  I  do  not  signal,"  he  added,  looking  at 
the  watch  on  his  wrist,  "your  submission  within  three 
minutes  of  our  landing — "  If  he  finished  his  sentence, 
no  one  heard  it. 

A  great  slithering  noise  crashed  down  from  the  air, 
and  all  Rukh  seemed  to  rock  from  the  shock  of  a  sud 
den  explosion. 

"Ah !"  the  Raja  said  idly.    "Bombs !" 

"Precisely,"  Cardew  confirmed  him,  as  cool  as  he. 

"I  fancied,"  Rukh  remarked,  "your  Government  af- 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  327 

fected  some  scruple  as  to  the  slaughter  of  innocent 
civilians." 

"There  has  been  no  slaughter — as  yet,"  the  Flight- 
Lieutenant  returned.  "That  bomb  fell  in  the  ravine, 
where  it  could  do  no  harm.  So  will  the  next  one — " 

The  slithering,  ripping  sound  again!  It  brayed 
nearer,  heavier  this  time.  And  the  explosion  felt  to 
have  shattered  the  Kingdom  of  Rukh  to  tatters.  The 
great  hall  rocked.  Its  horrid,  heavy  tapestries  bellied 
and  sagged  like  the  wind-driven  sails  of  a  storm-buf 
feted  ship. 

The  two  Englishmen  and  the  white-faced  English 
woman  neither  started  nor  stirred,  nor  did  the  Raja 
of  Rukh.  But  the  priests  huddled  together  like  fright 
ened  sheep,  and  the  poor  simple  people  out  in  the  court 
yard  wailed  like  cattle  in  torment. 

" — but  the  third" — the  young  airman  went  easily  on, 
when  he  could  expect  to  be  heard — "well,  if  you're  wise, 
you'll  throw  up  the  sponge,  and  there  won't  be  a 
third." 

But  the  Raja  of  Rukh  was  game.  "Throw  up  the 
sponge,  Lieutenant — ?"  he  drawled  indolently.  "I 
didn't  quite  catch  your  name?" 

"Cardew."     The  boy  was  brief. 

"Ah,  yes.  Lieutenant  Cardew.  Why  on  earth 
should  I  throw  up  the  sponge,  Mr.  Cardew?  Your 
comrades  up  yonder  can  no  doubt  massacre  quite  a 
number  of  my  subjects — a  brave  exploit! — but  when 
they've  spent  their  thunderbolts,  they'll  have  just  to  fly 
away  again — if  they  can.  A  bomb  may  drop  on  this 
temple,  you  say  ?  In  that  case,  you  and  your  friends" — 
he  inclined  his  head  towards  them  graciously — "will 
escort  me — in  fragments — to  my  last  abode.  (Or 
should  we  say,  next  abode — interesting  question.) 


328  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

Does  that  prospect  allure  you  ?  I  call  your  bluff,  Lieu 
tenant  Cardew." 

Cardew  looked  again  at  his  watch,  and  grinned — 
significantly:  a  public-schoolboy  grin — and,  as  if  it  had 
known  his  grin  for  its  cue,  a  third  bomb  screamed  and 
hit  and  burst :  England's  anger  weltering  into  the  very 
bowels  of  the  Kingdom  of  Rukh. 

It  was  very  near.    It  was  blastingly  loud. 

The  people  shrieked.  Save  the  idols  and  the  three 
English  none  there  was  calm  save  the  man  cross-legged 
on  the  throne.  From  courtyard,  temples  and  castle 
came  a  sorry  chorus  of  terror  and  despair.  Even  the 
cattle  in  mat-sheds  and  byres  bleated  and  cried,  and 
wild  jungle  things  off  on  mountains  scurried  and 
were  afraid.  The  people  shrieked,  and  the  priests 
rushed  to  their  master  and  flung  themselves  down  at 
his  feet  in  panic-stricken  supplication.  He  hesitated 
for  a  moment,  then,  with  a  shrug  half -indulgent,  half 
contempt,  continued  to  the  English  airman,  "My  priests, 
however,  have  a  superstitious  dread  of  these  eggs  of 
the  Great  Roc.  They  fear  injury  to  the  Sacred  Image. 
For  myself,  I  am  always  averse  to  bloodshed.  You 
may,  if  you  please,  signal  to  your  squadron  commander 
my  acceptance  of  your  terms." 

"I  thought  you  would  come  to  reason,"  Cardew  re 
turned,  as  he  shook  out  the  flag  he  carried,  and  hurried 
across  the  courtyard  to  where  the  white  beam  of  a 
searchlight  cut  down  between  the  great  Green  Goddess 
and  her  shivering,  stark-eyed  people. 

"This  comes  of  falling  behind  the  times,"  the  Raja 
said  with  a  sigh  not  untinged  with  blase  amusement. 
"If  I  had  had  anti-aircraft  guns — " 

"Thank  your  stars  you  hadn't,"  Traherne  told  him. 

Cardew  came  back  from  the  execution-ground.    "All 


THE  GREEN  GODDESS  329 

clear  for  the  moment,  Raja,"  he  said.  "You  have  no 
further  immediate  consequences  to  fear." 

"What  am  I  to  conclude  from  your  emphasis  on  'im 
mediate'  ?"  Rukh  asked  lazily. 

"I  need  scarcely  remind  you,  sir,"  the  boy  said  coldly, 
"that  you  can  only  hand  over  the  body  of  one  of  your 
prisoners." 

"Major  Crespin,"  the  Raja  retorted,  "murdered  a 
faithful  servant  of  mine.  His  death  at  my  hands  was 
a  fair  act  of  war." 

"His  Majesty's  Government  will  scarcely  view  it  in 
that  light,"  Cardew  remarked. 

"His  Majesty's  Government,"  Rukh  said  haughtily, 
"has  to-day,  I  believe,  taken  the  lives  of  three  kinsmen 
of  mine.  Your  side  has  the  best  transaction  by  four 
lives  to  one." 

Flight-Lieutenant  Cardew  ended  the  argument  with 
a  contemptuous  lift  of  his  broad,  young  shoulder. 
"Will  you  assign  us  an  escort  through  that  crowd  ?"  he 
demanded. 

"Certainly,"  the  Raja  replied  smoothly.  And  at  a 
word  from  him  an  officer  of  his  regular  troops  hurried 
out.  "The  escort  will  be  here  in  a  moment,  Flight- 
Lieutenant." 

The  Raja  of  Rukh  rose  and  went  to  Mrs.  Crespin. 
He  stood  a  moment  looking  at  her  quietly.  Then  he 
said,  including  Traherne  by  his  manner,  "It  only  re 
mains  for  me  to  speed  the  parting  guest.  I  hope  we 
may  one  day  renew  our  acquaintance" — he  said  point 
edly  to  Lucilla  Crespin — "oh,  not  here," — in  reply  to 
her  shudder — "I  plainly  foresee  that  I  shall  have  to 
join  the  other  Kings  in  Exile.  Perhaps  we  may  meet 
at  Homburg  or  Monte  Carlo,  and  talk  over  old  times. 
Ah,  here  is  the  escort." 


330  THE  GREEN  GODDESS 

As  the  aeroplane  rose  in  the  gathering  dusk,  Lucilla 
Crespin  turned  her  face  away  from  the  Kingdom  of 
Rukh.  But  Dr.  Traherne  fixed  his  eyes  on  castle  and 
temple  as  long  as  the  sight  of  them  held. 

Neither  was  thinking  of  the  other  as  their  rescue- 
ship  rose  and  clove  the  air — the  man  and  woman  so 
terribly,  so  irrevocably  betrothed.  She  had  no  thought 
now  but  of  two  children  to  whom  she  was  going — hers 
only  now.  And  Traherne  was  thinking  of  a  boy  at 
Harrow  he  had  greatly  respected. 

Rukh  turned  back  into  the  hall  as  the  English  left 
it.  He  strolled  across  to  the  throne  his  blood  had 
owned  for  so  many  ages,  and  stood  regarding  it  for  a 
long  time.  He  sighed,  then  laughed — a  little  sadly — 
in  the  hideous  face  of  the  Goddess  that  backed  the 
throne,  drew  his  case  from  the  pouch  in  his  jeweled 
sleeve,  and  lit  a  cigarette  at  the  sacred  brazier,  drew  its 
first  fragrant  whiff,  standing  there  before  his  well-nigh 
lost  throne,  and  went  slowly  out  onto  the  balcony. 

When  the  plane  rose  slowly  up  from  Rukh,  the  Raja 
still  stood  on  the  balcony — and  he  watched  it  out  of 
sight. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  to  the  fresh  cigarette  he  was 
lighting,  "she'd  probably  have  been  a  damned 
nuisance/' 


THE  END 


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